


Strange Loop

by ringtheory



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27391576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringtheory/pseuds/ringtheory
Summary: Written for the Dimilix Big Bang, with illustrations byeman, following four of Dimitri and Felix's reincarnations across time, centering around the question: “Do you remember the first time that we met?”These two souls meet again when their names are Dimitri and Felix – but you still recall much of this story, so let us not repeat what is already known. This is where we begin to remember: at the next crossroads between souls. Depending on how one wishes to track the order of things, it either starts at the life in which Felix is born in the far-flung future or the life in which Dimitri becomes both his own ancestor and descendant.Let us first recall the former.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 7
Kudos: 55
Collections: Dimilix Big Bang





	1. A Telling of His Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He asked, “Do you remember the first time that we met?” But there was no reply.

* * *

**Part I  
** Beginning of the End **  
**

* * *

These two souls meet again when their names are Dimitri and Felix – but you still recall much of this story, so let us not repeat what is already known.

After the war ended, Dimitri oversaw the start of a prosperous epoch that continues on for many centuries; his advocacy of a flexible, ever-evolving form of governance is retrospectively attributed to the success of the era. It is well known in the chronicles of history that he shared a close relationship with his advisor Felix; out of respect for their privacy, all reputable sources of the time refrained from recording in detail the contours of their partnership. Dimitri died in his early fifties while Felix served Dimitri’s successor for almost three decades before he too passed away. Thus ended their meeting on the mortal plane.

This is where we begin to remember: at the next crossroads between souls. Depending on how one wishes to track the order of things, it either starts at the life in which Felix is born in the far-flung future or the life in which Dimitri becomes both his own ancestor and descendant.

Let us first recall the former.

* * *

As he rounds the block to his apartment, Felix takes his keys out of his pocket and promptly drops them onto the pavement for no particular reason. The spasm of clumsiness is simply one of those inexplicable and unavoidable events that everybody experiences on occasion.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Felix mutters as he reaches down to pick them up. That his fingers slipped does not irritate him; rather, it is the brief and jarring awareness of his own human fallibility that annoys him.

The dog accompanying Felix stays sitting at his side obediently and watches as Felix retrieves his keys before proceeding on. Right as they stand in front of the door of Felix’s apartment, a crow caws loudly from across the street, causing the dog to let out a series of barks.

After the dog has calmed down, Felix opens the door. He lets the dog in first, then steps in and closes the door behind him. He opens all the windows before sitting down on the floor.

“It’s so quiet,” he says out loud.

Felix lays back, splaying his limbs out. He looks up at the ceiling. A breeze comes in from the windows – the sensation is pleasant against his skin. The dog circles around Felix several times but eventually lies down next to Felix, carefully resting his head on Felix’s stomach. The warm weight against his body is comforting. “At least you’re still here,” Felix says out loud, before he reaches to place his hand on the dog’s head in turn.

It is the Imperial Year 2020. Two months preceding the beginning of this story, he quit his job. It had been at a well-regarded research institute, where he researched ways to integrate faith magic into specialized devices for the rehabilitation of people with certain chronic disabilities. After he’d pioneered a technique to disperse magic throughout the body in small but controlled bursts, Felix had widely been considered a rising young star in his field.

But without warning, Felix handed in his two-week notice. He didn’t explain to anybody why he made such a sudden and extreme lifestyle change before going through with it. And he did not have any plans for what to do after leaving his job: he freely admitted as much to anybody who cared to ask.

For about two months, all Felix did was pass the time. Then spring came. This is where we begin.

One afternoon, Felix happens to cross paths with a casual acquaintance on his way back home from going nowhere in particular. Her name is Flayn and she ranks among the most peculiar of all the people Felix knows, which he mentally notes as a fact rather than an oddity. She asks him to join her for a walk around the area and – having nothing else to do – he decides to take her up on it.

“Was there something you wanted to talk about?” Felix asks after she extends the invitation. Exchanging courtesies is not his forte; he has always preferred to take the chance of delving into a deep conversation and running the risk of having it go poorly over engaging in a conversation where many words are spoken and yet nothing of value is communicated.

“If I might ask, how long has it been since you left your job?” Flayn says.

Felix frowns as he counts the days backwards in his head. “Nine weeks or so,” he finally answers. “Why?”

“It shows in your face,” Flayn says, “that you have not been talking to people regularly.”

“Once you stop, it’s easy to keep going like that,” Felix replies. He shrugs.

“But it is not like that for everybody. You do understand that, I hope?” Flayn asks.

Felix wonders if she means to imply that there is something abnormal about him or if he’s being overly sensitive. He looks at her and she looks back; Felix can see himself reflected in her eyes, proportions distorted by the curvature of her irises. But even if his reflection isn’t accurate to reality, still it is surely himself whom he sees looking at her in the meet of their gazes.

That he recognizes himself despite everything is what spurs him to be honest with her. He asks suddenly, “Have you ever felt like there’s something empty inside?”

“There are different kinds of emptiness,” Flayn replies gently. She seems unbothered by Felix’s sudden, unprovoked subject change, almost as if she had anticipated it. “Which is the sort that you are thinking of?”

“Emptiness like you’re longing for something,” Felix answers.

Flayn is visibly startled by how quickly the reply came. Felix knows he has indirectly revealed to her that this is something he has contemplated thoroughly. In front of most other people, Felix may have called this vulnerability – in front of Flayn, it feels instead like sincerity.

After a pause, she collects herself. Flayn tilts her head and says, “There have been times when I felt there was something lacking within myself… but I cannot say I have ever experienced the kind of emptiness you have described. But I do not think this is anything you have to worry about, Felix. After all… I am me and you are you.”

“I’m not worried,” Felix says. “I was only wondering. That’s all.”

“Then you have my response,” Flayn tells him. “In return, allow me a question of my own. Do you have anything that you want to do, Felix?”

They continue to walk. Felix brings his hands up to his face and cups them over his nose and mouth briefly. He closes his eyes and breathes out slowly before letting his hands fall to his sides. Then he looks back at Flayn.

“I’m passing time,” he finally answers. “I’m just passing time.”

Flayn smiles patiently and says, “There is nothing wrong with that. It took me many years to finally believe that, though, so I hope you are able to accept it as truth faster than I did.”

Though he had not been looking for encouragement, Flayn’s reply soothes Felix greatly. He realizes that he had not known he wanted to hear words to reaffirm him until they had already been spoken.

“Let us walk together again sometime,” Flayn tells him before they part ways. 

When Felix had been employed, he spent his days developing methods to treat various forms of physical disability. He thought he’d enjoyed it until one day he realized he didn’t gain any sense of fulfilment from his work itself – he felt satisfied only when he had completed something, _because_ he had completed something. That is to say: his heart was not nourished by anything he did. Passion is not what motivated him to continue on with his work.

After thinking about his situation carefully, Felix realized that what had carried him thus far was likely a matter of momentum. He went to school and dedicated himself to doing well in his studies because it was expected of him. When he chose to research the use of faith magic in technological innovation, it was for two reasons. The first was that he felt that it was correct for him to do something which would make the world a better place. The second was that he happened to go to a school that happened to excel in the field. In fact, when Felix was still taking his general coursework, he consistently performed better in reason magic than he did with faith. But because one of his instructors had recommended him into a faith-intensive academic track with a strong reputation, he dropped his studies of reason magic and never picked them up again.

As for his research, he had simply followed the obvious course of advancement that his senior researchers had already trailblazed. It is true that he could not have accomplished what he did without a combination of hard work and talent. But Felix would be hard-pressed to call himself a true innovator.

That fact did not bother him. Only a rare handful of people can be considered the kind of genius able to consistently create something new where before there had been nothing – Felix, who has always seen himself clearly, does not think less of himself because he cannot count himself among those elite. Rather, it was the sudden _awareness_ of the fact that he had come so far acting upon such a hollowed purpose which left him perturbed.

He began to wonder if he could find a sense of meaning in something if he took a few steps back and reevaluated his life. The difficulty with momentum is that it becomes harder to stop once it has built up motion; Felix could think of something no less drastic than quitting his job in order to bring his life to a state of stillness. After considering his options carefully, Felix decided to conclude the project he had been working on, which had conveniently moved into its final phase, before revisiting the question of whether he should leave or stay.

Every day for a month, Felix instructed a coworker on how to administer a carefully-developed care regimen to an in-patient who had agreed to be part of an experimental treatment to restore motor functions to one of their legs. At the end of the thirty days, though, no significant were noted.

Felix had decided to stay if he had felt disappointed with the results. If he felt disappointment, he reasoned, that would be evidence that he truly cared about what his work stood for.

He hadn’t. So he left.

Every once in a while, Felix meets with a close friend of his for lunch. It is a natural extrapolation of their existing friendship, as she and Felix studied together for almost ten years before briefly parting to take different jobs, only to reunite at the same research institute after a few years more. Her first name is Bellamy, but Felix often calls her Bell because he thinks that her laugh has a curious ringing quality to it.

It is during their fourth meeting after Felix quit his job that Bellamy tells him, “Adam mentioned earlier this week that he’d feel a lot better about his workload if you’d come back.”

Felix smiles thinly and says, “Of course he would. How many documents has he filed late since I left?”

Bellamy laughs her ringing laugh, which is answer enough. Felix pauses to enjoy the sound of it before he continues. “I don’t mind the idea of coming back eventually,” he says, “although I don’t particularly want to come back either.”

She reaches over and briefly touches Felix’s hand where it rests on the table between them. “Don’t feel pressured,” she says. “If you ask me, you should take as much time as you want. After all, you’ve pretty much never done anything bad or wrong in your entire life.”

“Really?” Felix asks, after a pause. “I seem to remember getting up to some childish mischief back in the day.”

“Sure, but you were never the one saying, _Oh, we should do this, we should do that._ You would only follow somebody else’s lead,” Bellamy replies.

Her response is too immediate for Felix’s liking. He frowns and taps his finger irritably on the table several times before he stills his hand. Finally, he says, “I’ve never thought about it… Maybe you have a point. But could you make it sound less like I’m having a late-delayed juvenile rebellious phase?”

Bellamy laughs and replies, “I’m afraid I simply can’t do that, Felix!”

Something about the clear sincerity behind the way she speaks erodes the negativity that was threatening to form around Felix. He smiles slightly and says, “Well, then, I’ll take your advice and go at my own pace.”

“And take a little extra if you feel like it,” Bellamy tells him. From there, the conversation flows to a new topic naturally as she begins to explain in detail the paperwork overflowing on her desk, keeping her from doing the kind of work she actually enjoys – Felix pays attention to the shape of the conversation but not the details. He does this out of a sense of self-preservation, as he wants to enjoy his time with his friend without holding jealousy or resentment close to his heart.

Eventually, Felix will settle things with himself. This is not stated as an event but as a process. As we grow, we must regularly adjust our expectations, our hopes, and our beliefs – among many other things – in order to survive in a world that is constantly changing and filled with the unexpected. When we are young, we make these realignments naturally; once the vigor of youth begins to wither, we must learn to do so actively. Once Felix starts, it will be easy for him to continue like that. He is at heart a creature of habit.

He will make himself let go of lofty, unattainable ideas and carefully tie himself to smaller goals and joys that allow him to live from day to day with neither reservation nor anguish. He will realize that his mistake was to think that his reason for living must be for some grand purpose. Such all-or-nothing thinking has always been dangerous. “Perfect is the enemy of good,” as the saying goes. It is good to live a life smelling flowers and hearing the birds in the morning and feeling that these things are worthwhile.

He will look carefully at the things he does and find value in the act of doing them. The months during which Felix simply passes time are neither a waste nor something to be regretted – rather, that period of time is crucial for him to learn the difference between what it is to feel happy and the state of being content.

If there is something unusual left to say about this life of his, it might be that he will die relatively young and unexpectedly after experiencing serious complications with a viral infection. His last words will be spoken in front of a group of his loved ones: “Don’t be sad if it’s on my behalf,” he will say, “as I’m not sad myself.”

* * *

**An interlude**  
on the matter of narration.

* * *

It was, perhaps, an unfulfilling story.

“Nothing happened,” would be a reasonable if somewhat harsh summary. Part of this may be due to the fact that it is not the whole story. There are parts of it that cannot yet be told. This is not the fault of the reader. Rather, as the teller of this tale, I regret to inform you that I have yet to obtain the qualifications which would allow me to unveil this recollection in its complete form. Your patience is requested and sincerely appreciated. I would like to give my word that I am working diligently even at this very moment to remedy the situation.

The root of the problem is that this tale is not mine. I have been gathering its pieces for quite some time, but still some of it eludes me. In particular, I do not have the “true ending”. I find the state of things truly regrettable.

But by telling the pieces I do have, it allows me to consider what I am missing – therefore, by reading this story as I recount it, you are doing me a great favor. I will express my gratitude by endeavoring to finish the tale as quickly as possible.

With that in mind, let us continue with the narrative.

* * *

**Part II  
** Transition and Transcendence

* * *

In another one of Felix’s lives, he is born just before the figure calling herself Seiros appears in Fódlan. It is a time of turmoil and he dies young. During this era, banditry and pillaging are practically the norm; he is orphaned at the age of four. He survives for several years by banding together with several other young orphans to steal food and guard each other during the night. It is a difficult life, but he finds happiness through companionship. Almost all of them die together when thieves enter the house they had been sleeping in, unaware that it had been long abandoned by its original owners, and set it on fire out of anger at their wasted time and efforts. Felix manages to break a window and helps one of his friends escape. He dies from the lack of oxygen, unaware of whether his friend managed to survive.

Some span of space and time later, he is born not long after the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was divided into three. About twenty years later, the Crescent Moon War occurs. Although Felix was meant to inherit his family’s modest patch of land and till the soil as a living, he is forcibly conscripted into the local army. Unfortunately, he is born at the wrong time and location: the lord of the land whom he serves is in favor of retaking Leicester. As he is on the wrong side of history, he almost dies in a skirmish with Faerghus’s pro-disengagement faction, but the battalion commander of the opposing side agrees to let him and his fellow soldiers go free after learning they are all conscripts. He returns home and lives a quiet life afterwards.

Most of his lives, unfortunately, are unknown to me. It might be more accurate to say that they are “incomprehensible”. However, the next life that can be understood is indeed one that merits our extended time and effort. Let us therefore view the contours of that particular life, and revisit what has been left undiscussed only if they become relevant.

* * *

Felix is born again in the year 723. He grows up in a town that will later lie on the border between Fraldarius and the Plains of Itha, after the Kingdom of Faerghus is established and new maps of the continent are drawn. Felix’s childhood is during an era preceding turmoil. Though part of it is natural inclination, Felix intuitively grasps the nature of the times and develops a sharp perception for reading others at a young age.

He outgrows his local teachers by the age of 14. His parents manage to gather the funds to send him to continue his education in Fhirdiad. Felix first serves as an apprentice to one of the newest members of Fhirdiad’s knight-order; when his talent becomes apparent, he is quickly reassigned to a more senior knight by the name of Matthias Anthelme Dominic.

Among Matthias’s five students, only Felix and another lack a middle name. This fact is significant because in northern Fódlan, the practice of conferring a middle name developed for symbolic reasons. One of those was to confer status. During this era, there was a strong sense of hierarchy even within the noble class. Middle names were therefore reserved only for the most elite of the elite, serving almost as an informal title.

As such, the order between students is set with Felix firmly at the bottom immediately upon his introduction. The only other person in his cohort who lacks a middle name not only comes from an offshoot of the prominent House Blaiddyd, but he also carries a minor Crest. Thus, even the second-lowest ranked apprentice is still well above Felix in terms of station. The name of that student – as you may have expected – is Loog, the future King of Lions.

Although House Blaiddyd commands much respect and authority simply by its name, it is not in an enviable position. House Blaiddyd’s territory includes the largest span of fertile land in northern Fódlan, to the point that it will gain the nickname “Breadbasket of Faerghus” in the future. Being the largest natural source of food in the otherwise resource-scarce region means that the house carries great power, but it also makes House Blaiddyd incredibly vulnerable to both outside criticism and internal conflict. No matter what policies the household enacts within its territory, there will be consequences for those around them.

Felix’s parents lived through a time when all of those living in Fraldarius territory – even its nobles – went hungry for several years, not because of famine but because of the choices made within House Blaiddyd. Rather than ‘bad’ decisions, it was more that they were ‘strange’ decisions: House Blaiddyd had decided to give the relatively weaker House Rowe with advantageous trade agreements while spurning House Fraldarius. It is a point of contention that House Fraldarius finds difficult to reconcile even after regaining House Blaiddyd’s favor, and mystifying to the point that Felix only begins to understand how the situation came about when Loog springs an unexpected onto him almost off-handedly one late afternoon that they’re assigned to patrol the city perimeter together.

Loog asks, “Do you want to guess how many cousins I have?”

Felix knows that there are currently six nobles of his parents’ generation carrying significant regional authority who belong to House Blaiddyd. There must be even more who aren’t publicly known or whose connections to the house are not obvious. So he answers, “A conservative guess… would be about fifteen.”

“Twenty-one,” Loog replies.

That’s enough for Felix to understand how complicated the issue of inheritance is for House Blaiddyd. Felix looks Loog in the eyes and says, “Tell me the truth. Do you want to be the next head of House Blaiddyd?”

“It isn’t that I want to lead House Blaiddyd,” Loog answers, “so much as it is that I can’t bring myself to leave that position to anybody else in the family.”

With those words, Felix understands that Loog is somebody who has the qualifications to become a great king.

As Loog began his apprenticeship a year earlier than Felix, he also concludes it first. During the first six months that Felix serves as Matthias Anthelme Dominic’s most senior apprentice, he rarely sees Loog – but then there comes an unexpected announcement out of House Blaiddyd. Their line of inheritance has changed, and Loog is to become head of the household after his predecessor either passes away or abdicates his position.

After hearing the news, Felix immediately drafts and sends Loog a note: “ _I expected this turn of events – still, I offer my congratulations nonetheless. I didn’t tell you this before now because I thought that you might get ahead of yourself, but I have always thought that you would be suited for leadership.”_

Even before Felix was born, the embers of rebellion have been burning in Northern Fódlan. During his years living in Fhirdiad, Felix concludes that an uprising is inevitable. It is something that can be sensed in the streets, from the noble districts all the way to the slums – the people will unite if it is for the sake of emancipation from the empire. Therefore, Felix believes it would be preferable to take the reins and attempt to control the direction of rebellion rather than get caught up in its waves.

A month before Felix is set to conclude his studies, Felix receives a written invitation to visit one of House Blaiddyd’s branch families. He supposes that it’s likely one of Loog’s cousins attempting to maneuver power away from Loog, so Felix decides to take up the invitation as a defensive move that would allow him to assess whether Loog’s position is at risk – to his surprise, though, it is none other than Loog himself who greets him.

After some idle catching-up, Loog asks, “Have you heard about any other houses preparing for war?”

“Not in any serious way,” Felix answers, after a pause. “Why do you ask?”

“The long and short of it is that I was able to become House Blaiddyd’s successor by promising to lead a rebellion against the Empire,” Loog says. “But even if a rebellion succeeds, I can’t help but wonder… what about afterwards?”

“What about it?” Felix replies.

“Who is it that you see leading the kingdom after the war is won?” Loog asks.

“Loog,” Felix says after a muted pause, “I think you can become a great king. And I’m willing to tie my fate to yours.”

Though it is not a direct response, it is answer enough.

Felix will, of course, go down in history books as one of Loog’s closest companions. There will come a day when almost everybody in Fódlan has heard of the King of Lions and his great endeavors. If he could have known that while he is still alive, then this knowledge would have given him two separate forms of happiness. The first would be from knowing that Loog’s legacy would remain for generations to come. And then second would be from knowing that his name would be linked with Loog’s in all the places where his name is written.

* * *

**An interlude**  
on the matter of names.

* * *

Again, I regretfully must inform you that some pieces of this story have yet to be revealed. I am searching with as much effort as I can exert while still dividing some of my attention towards retelling the pieces I do have to you. Please do not take this to mean that I am trying to neglect your presence. I still believe that recounting these things to you is vitally important in my task.

As I consider what story to tell you next, I will take the opportunity to clarify something that you may have been wondering about. Of course their names change from one life to next, yet for convenience we shall continue to call them by “Dimitri” and “Felix”. Not only are these the names that you have already formed attachment to but their soul-names are too unwieldy for common use, hence this arrangement is practical for multiple reasons.

Perhaps it seems silly to mention this, but the soul is not a corporeal existence – so a soul does not communicate via sight or sound. Their language is closer to what could be considered the communion of concepts and experiences. Therefore souls rarely converse with each other when they are in soul-form, as conversation is a deeply intimate process. Nothing is permitted to be hidden. Anything and everything may be conveyed.

In the language we are currently using to relate information, there is a curious turn of phrase: “to bare one’s soul”. Maybe the person who first used it remembered vaguely what it felt like to communicate in their soul-form. It could be that the experience was so deeply etched into that soul that even when they were born into a worldly body once again, they could not truly forget that experience. If this theory is true, let it hope it is because that experience was a profound warmth that permeated their entire being and not a cutting sharpness that left a difficult wound to heal.

This fundamental difference in methods of communication means that the names of souls are difficult to capture succinctly using words alone. It is experience as identity, it is title as premonition – thus soul-names are substantially complex objects. Most are several sentences long. It would be exhausting in various ways to use these soul-names, though it is true that a soul-name is immutable in a way that “Dimitri” and “Felix” are not.

Perhaps it is bold to declare this (and if you think it is insolent to assume, then forgiveness is humbly requested), but you may now be curious what the soul-names of the beings you met by the human-names “Dimitri” and “Felix” are. Their names shall be provided, in the case that you wish to know.

In a rough translation from the language of souls, Dimitri’s name is: _This is he who must endure through hardship, because only through adversity will he learn how to discern what he must cherish and what he must relinquish. If he attains realization, then countless blessings will fall upon him and his protectorate. But if he remains unseeing then he will deny himself salvation._

And Felix’s name is: _This is he who will always be loved in turn when he reveals his love freely. When he sees this as a blessing, he will live a fulfilled life. When he sees this as a curse, he will live always with old regrets on his back. And when he sees this as both all at once, he will have the capacity for the truest understanding._

They both have short soul-names. There is a superstition among entities which are capable of observing the plane of souls that this means they will always have much to live up to when they incarnate on the mortal plane.

That said, please take care not to mistake this convention as elucidation. The choice to use the names “Dimitri” and “Felix” means that you will always be able to identify the existences you first met when they were called “Dimitri” and “Felix”. It is a matter of _convenience,_ not clarity.

Unfortunately, the remaining fragments of Felix Hugo Fraldarius’s narrative which I currently hold in my possession would be difficult to string together in a meaningful way at this point. Although it is abrupt, a change of subjects is necessary at this point.

We have said much about the lives Felix Hugo Fraldarius has lived, yet Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd appears to be conspicuously absent. By following him in turn, some of these blanks can be filled.

Let us begin with Dimitri’s path by retelling the story leading up to the War of the Eagle and the Lion, this time from the perspective of the person Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd was reborn as. As you may have suspected, he has been close all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He asked me once if I remembered the first time that we met. I didn’t, although I remember so many other things. I wanted to know why he asked, but he wouldn’t tell me.


	2. A Telling of My Story

* * *

**Part III  
**A lion, chasing his own tail.

* * *

“History is written by the victors.” That is why the folk-tales about the King of Lions begin from when Loog leaves Fhirdiad, spurred on by the peoples’ desire for freedom from Imperial reign, to gather allies who will help him rise up against the Adrestian Empire.

This is a story that was not told in those folk-tales.

Dimitri is born to a minor family of House Blaiddyd in the year 722, and despite the fact that he will someday be called the King of Lions, his birth carries few expectations. His childhood passes without anything of note happening to him. Just before he turns sixteen, Dimitri leaves home for the first time in his life and comes under the tutelage of one of Fhirdiad’s senior knights, Matthias Anthelme Dominic.

Among his many peers, of course, is Kyphon of House Fraldarius, whom Dimitri cannot help but think of as a composite of all the stereotypes about the children of Fraldarius. Kyphon is stalwart to the point of obstinacy, blunt in language, yet unable to sway himself with logic whenever it must compete with his compassion.

Because nobody expected it of him, Dimitri doesn’t seriously consider vying to become the next head of House Blaiddyd until Kyphon brings it up abruptly one afternoon, while they are on an errand for senior apprentices who have asked them to return books on strategic formations back to Fhirdiad’s humble library. “You once told me that there isn’t anyone in your family qualified to become the next Duke Blaiddyd. So do you intend to compete for House Blaiddyd’s title?” Kyphon asks.

Dimitri sighs. The question is blunt to the point of rudeness, especially considering their relative stations. Before he can dodge answering by gently chiding Kyphon for his thoughtlessness, though, Kyphon adds: “If that’s what you want to do, then I’ll tie my fate to yours.”

Kyphon’s position within House Fraldarius as a member of one of its branch families is tenuous; their internal situation is not nearly as messy as House Blaiddyd’s, but Dimitri knows well that Fraldarius is not united. As such, he also understands that Kyphon is not being metaphorical in his phrasing.

“Let us chain our futures together, then,” Dimitri says.

But Dimitri doesn’t become the next heir of House Blaiddyd because of either reputation or ability. He attains his position by outmaneuvering all of his competition. House Blaiddyd essentially becomes split into three factions: one that supports the main family, one that supports Dimitri, and a neutral group. The main advantage that the scion of the main family has over Dimitri is legitimacy. He is the paternal grandson of the current head of House Blaiddyd, and it is an implicit fact that he was raised to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps. This how Dimitri justifies killing him: if he does not, then he will always have to live with the possibility that his rival will attempt to overthrow him by argument of birthright. It is, after all, a common narrative in stories – the rightful prince is exiled, but bides his time until he can return to claim his rightful place. And it is a story that he either has lived or will live himself.

It is not the first time that Dimitri takes a life, although it is the first time that he causes another human being’s death. He bloodies his own blade because he believes that he has a responsibility to understand the depth of his actions. The funeral and mourning period is brief and private; the death is not announced outside of the family. But those with discerning eyes know what it is that Dimitri has done to secure his place.

Six weeks after Dimitri kills, House Blaiddyd publicly proclaims that its new heir will be Loog.

And from here, the folk-tales tell the rest of the story.

* * *

**An interlude**  
on the matter of purpose (1).

* * *

Do you think that it an overall fortunate thing to be born with a purpose to life?

On the one hand, having a sense of purpose may be a source of solace or motivation. If one believes that there is a reason to their life, then this may make them less likely to despair about the nature of living. It can be strength through difficult times and the dignity needed to endure.

On the other hand, there is an inherent risk to having a purpose in life: one may lose it. The absence of something is not the same as that something never existing in the first place. Then, is it harder to endure the loss of purpose than it is to have no purpose to begin with?

Perhaps this is a dilemma similar to that famous quote – is it truly better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? Instead the question becomes – is it better to have had a purpose in life and lost it than to never have had one at all?

It seems natural to believe that the answer to these questions vary from person to person – as the reason (or lack thereof) that one has in life varies from person to person as well. Therefore, let us restrict our immediate attention to the one you first met as “Felix Hugo Fraldarius”. 

While Felix was not in the habit of regularly writing personal letters, the daughter of one of his cousins was not only a prolific writer but also quite close to him throughout the later years of his life. The following is an excerpt from a letter she sent to a friend she met at the Officer’s Academy, several years after their graduation:  
  


> _You don’t need to console me! I’m quite certain I was only in consideration for the inheritance as I have a Crest, to appease some of the older members of the family. Thankfully, His Grace is modern-minded and quickly discarded me as a serious competitor._
> 
> _If anything, I am relieved that my younger sister has been made the official heiress to the duchy. She has a good mind for governance and – unlike me – is very sensitive to human relations. I should thank her profusely for being as hard-working and as understanding as she is. Now I’m free to do as I like!_
> 
> _As I wrote the above, I was reminded of a conversation I had with my uncle Felix when I was a child. I’d been pouting to him about this-or-that, something juvenile, I’m sure – and I must have said something along the lines of, “I wish I were a princess like Odette!” When he asked why, I explained that being a princess must be nice because a princess must not have to worry about what she’s going to do when she’s older – she will simply continue being a princess. And because there is nobody of a higher class than the royal family, she is able to live comfortably._
> 
> _To which he replied, “If you want to live comfortably, then you should wish to be born of a humble station – one that carries only humble expectations. When the duties to which you are born are too large… it is an unenviable position to be in.”_
> 
> _You know, the Duke of Fraldarius has a reputation for being brusque, but he has always been very gentle with me. (My father once said that he thinks I am favored because I resemble his older brother somewhat. Having heard only admirable things about His Grace’s late brother, I was quite flattered to hear that. Then my mother more rudely insinuated that he relates to me, as we are both black sheep of the family!) And I remember clearly that he was braiding my hair as we were having this conversation. He did it very carefully. It didn’t hurt a single bit._
> 
> _As he braided my hair, he continued: “If the princess does well, then many people will say that she was merely fulfilling her role as a princess. Her successes will be praised and celebrated with restraint and never to the degree that they deserve… she will be forced to always practice humbleness, until it becomes second nature to her. But if she doesn’t do well, then the people will say she failed in her duties – and they will remember her faults for far longer than they do her virtues. And all because she happened to be born into the royal family, through no choice of her own.”_
> 
> _At the time, I didn’t fully understand what he had told me. But as this inheritance business was going on, I thought about this memory often._
> 
> _That reminds me, rumor around these parts is that House Blaiddyd is also considering whether to appoint a member of their branch family to become heir to the throne. Have you heard anything on your end? Given Odette’s mired in the middle of all this, it is difficult for me to ask her directly. I want to support her choices, but another member of House Fraldarius becoming too involved in House Blaiddyd’s internal affairs may complicate things for her. The last thing I would want to do is inadvertently make things worse.  
>    
>  _

Incidentally, the person who penned the preceding letter was later designated the sole inheritor of Felix Hugo Fraldarius’s personal affects. Although few in number, she took care to preserve each item for the future. She herself would become a personal mentor and friend to another so-called black sheep in the succeeding generation of House Fraldarius and establish an informal tradition of handing down Felix Hugo Fraldarius’s belongings outside of the main family lineage, almost as if to claim Felix as one of their own: a man who marched to the beat of his own drum until the very end.

Perhaps, then, the next story that should be told is one regarding a peculiar consequence that came about due to these circumstances.

* * *

It is the year 2041 when Dimitri, a graduate student of history, begins to finish a years-long endeavor to become a professor. When he forms his reading committee, Dimitri asks a professor from his university’s Department of Language and Literature to serve as his out-of-subject advisor, who has a reputation for having a sharp memory when it comes to historical events and is a popular choice for external advisor.

“I’m curious about why you want to concentrate on the Savior King’s era,” the professor asks when they first meet to discuss Dimitri’s proposal. “It’s to my understanding that your in-department advisors would likely prefer it if you chose an earlier era to work with instead.”

“It was reading about that time period that made me interested in history in general,” Dimitri answers.

The professor is silent.

Dimitri continues to speak: “Perhaps that was a juvenile sentiment to express. I realize that feelings alone aren’t enough to produce results. Of course, I also have confidence in –”

“I don’t think it juvenile in the least,” the professor interrupts, “if anything, I respect that sense of ardor. In light of that… I’ll agree to serve as one of your advisors.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Dimitri immediately says, smiling widely as he hands the forms over to be signed.

“No need for such formalities,” the professor replies. “You can call me Seteth.”

In the course of his studies, Dimitri has spent many days and nights reading about the Savior King – but Dimitri’s interest in the Savior King is tangential to a passionate curiosity for the people immediately surrounding him. He has always held a fondness for Duke Felix Hugo Fraldarius in particular, so Dimitri decides to consider whether it is feasible for him to write a paper on the Shield’s Successor.

A summarized organization on the major topics of academic study regarding Felix Hugo Fraldarius circa 2044 follows.

First, it is well-known that he was a childhood friend to the then-crown prince, along with Ingrid Brandl Galatea and Sylvain Jose Gautier. All four would rise to prominence both together and separately; in the region formerly encompassed by the Kingdom of Faerghus, they are often affectionately referred to as the Four Cornerstones of modern Fódlan.

Second, it is theorized that Felix Hugo Fraldarius was the first in line to inherit the duchy even before the passing of his older brother, and that this may explain his attitude later in life towards matters of succession.

Finally, Felix Hugo Fraldarius never married. This topic is more popular in casual texts – books aimed towards the general population, that is – and often has the feel of gossip about it. If one read such books a little too seriously, then one could find reason to believe that Felix Hugo Fraldarius was party to a secret love affair with practically anybody and everybody across the continent.

After a few weeks of review, Dimitri is forced to conclude that writing a full paper on Felix Hugo Fraldarius may be too ambitious, so he submits a proposal for a less niche topic in the same era to his advisors for review. The proposal is quickly approved by his in-department advisors; to Dimitri’s surprise, it is Seteth who delays his approval and asks Dimitri for an in-person meeting.

The point of the meeting quickly makes itself apparent after exchanging polite greetings. “Have you given up on your original research topic?” Seteth asks.

“It’s not that I’ve given up,” Dimitri replies. “But right now, above all else… I need something that I know I can finish by the submission deadline. Writing a paper on Felix Hugo Fraldarius is something I’d like to do, but I don’t have the time to develop a new theory and I don’t have any new materials to bring to the table.”

Seteth nods thoughtfully. Then he says, “So if you had access to unpublished documents from the time, that could change things significantly.”

“Yes, although my hopes aren’t high,” Dimitri replies.

After a measured pause, Seteth says, “I happen to know a person that might be able to help you. I can ask if he’d be willing to contact you, although I can’t promise that anything will come of it.”

Dimitri isn’t sure what Seteth means to imply or if he’s looking for a response – so Dimitri decides to nod politely and wait for Seteth to give another cue. He watches as Seteth sighs and looks out his office window.

“Professor?” Dimitri says, hoping to gently nudge him back into the present conversation. “I’d like to thank you for the kind offer. I swear, I’ll make the most of it.”

Seteth smiles briefly. “I hope to hear that things go well for you soon. I’ll post you a note once I’ve arranged things for you. Be well, Dimitri,” Seteth says.

Seteth’s contact is a distant member of the Fraldarius bloodline who has a different surname, and whose first name is Constantine. After a series of mail correspondences, he agrees to meet Dimitri at a café close to where Dimitri lives. When Constantine arrives, Dimitri immediately recognizes him – although it must be genetic fluke more than anything else, given how diluted the old noble bloodlines are, he has all the features that House Fraldarius was known for: dark hair, sharp eyes, and a long face.

Constantine almost passes him before Dimitri can call out, but he stops in his tracks abruptly and turns around, making direct eye contact with Dimitri.

“Are you Dimitri?” he asks. “You should have sat down first. Sorry for keeping you.”

“No, not at all,” Dimitri replies, offering his hand.

They exchange a brisk handshake before placing their orders at the main counter, then finding a table once their drinks are ready. “Thank you for meeting with me,” Dimitri says after they sit down opposite each other, “I truly appreciate it.”

“No need for thanks. I was also wondering what to do with all these things,” Constantine replies. “I’ve heard from Seteth that you’re researching Felix Hugo Fraldarius, but do you have anything specific in mind?”

“Well, the existence of personal records that haven’t been publicly released is huge in and of itself,” Dimitri says. “Even if there isn’t anything in them that hasn’t been said in other documents, it could still potentially sustain an entire paper all on its own.”

“So nothing specific,” Constantine replies. His tone is less cutting and more shrewd.

“To be honest, I haven’t even told my advisors this yet, because they’d all tell me that I should be practical,” Dimitri says. “But I’m curious… about what kind of relationship that he shared with the Savior King.”

Constantine smiles wanly. Then he says, “I was passed down three journals that Felix Hugo Fraldarius kept. It’s been years since I read them, but I believe the first entry was around his official ascension as duke, and the final entry was not long after the Savior King died. I’m willing to let you read them. In exchange, I’d like you to transcribe the contents.”

“Of course, I’m willing – it’d be an honor,” Dimitri says. “I agree it’s better safe than sorry when it comes to these things. Those journals are one-of-a-kind… even if you hadn’t agreed to let me read them, I would have encouraged you to have them copied.”

“Good, then it’s settled. I’ll let you know when everything is prepared on my end,” Constantine replies.

There is a finality to Constantine’s tone; Dimitri senses that any more expressions of gratitude will only annoy Constantine, so he decides to change the topic. “I’m curious as to how Felix Hugo Fraldarius’s journals made their way so far from the main house,” Dimitri says. “Normally, you would expect something so personal to be closely guarded by a person’s direct descendants.”

“You’ll be able to draw your own conclusions soon enough,” Constantine replies. “Anyway – should we leave things at that? As I said, I’ll let you know when things are prepared for you.”

“I look forward to hearing from you,” Dimitri says.

About ten days later, Dimitri receives a letter from Constantine to make arrangements for their meeting. They agree that Dimitri can go to Constantine’s house and use his study to do the transcription. The journals are not to leave the study, and Dimitri is not to bring anything into the study. The terms are more than fair; if anything, they are extremely generous towards Dimitri. “Take as much time as you need,” Constantine says for the fourth time as he shows Dimitri to the study.

“You’re making me a bit nervous by repeating that over and over again,” Dimitri replies. “Did Felix Hugo Fraldarius have extremely poor handwriting, perhaps?”

Constantine laugh and says, “Well, you’ll see soon enough, won’t you?”

Within the study, there is a single desk, which is at least three times as long as the one Dimitri has in his paltry student’s office. Placed in the middle are the three journals, along with writing materials that Dimitri had requested for the transcription.

“Take your time,” Constantine says, once more, before leaving.

Dimitri reads the journals. Carefully he reads the journals. After Dimitri reads the journals, he understands something important.

Afterwards, Dimitri will write three chapters for his thesis, which he titles “Three Essays on the Successors of the Savior King”. The first chapter is about the diplomatic endeavors of the woman who inherited Felix Hugo Fraldarius’s title as Duchess, and went on to work together with her older sister to establish harmonious relationships with Sring, Almyra, and Morfis. The middle chapter is a reinterpretation of the Savior King’s relationship with those he mentored as both a ruler and a teacher. The final chapter constructs a new frame of interpretation to explain why certain bloodlines were quicker to change their determination of succession than others. His defense will be successful, and he becomes a professor at Garreg Mach.

He will enjoy a fruitful career both as a scholar and as a teacher. In particular, he will publish many papers on the generation of nobles and officials following directly in the footsteps of those who had served under the Savior King, and will be acknowledged as an authority on the era.

“He has a way of making you feel like you were actually there at the events he describes,” many of his students will say.

Respected and beloved by many, he will pass into the next life peacefully. He confesses to a close friend and confidant a few days before his death, “If there is one last thing I wish I could do… well, there’s somebody I wanted to meet again.” Then he will smile and say, “Perhaps in the future.”

* * *

**An interlude**  
on the matter of ■ ■ ■.

* * *

Is it strange that I feel we are in dialogue even though I cannot hear you? Do you feel the same as I do – that we are conversing? It is true that I will not be able to respond to your thoughts; there is an impenetrable veil between us. But in your mind are you replying to me? I would like to think that you are.

Sometimes I feel that I can shape an image of you in my mind’s eye, not of your current human existence but your soul form. I imagine that you are a soul of considerable empathy. I imagine this because you have taken the time to read these words even though you did not have to. I imagine this because you care for these two souls even though you will never meet them personally. I imagine this because I want to believe it is true.

You have listened to me for quite some time now. For that I can only do one thing: express again my sincere gratitude. Because of you this story can take form – so you are perhaps the most important character of this narrative. Without you there is no witness. Without a witness, the “truth” of this story cannot be formed.

What do you think of the things you have learned so far?

I will be quiet for a while. And I will try to listen for your reply.


	3. Quietly, I recalled that...

He asked, “Do you remember the first time that we met?” And I couldn’t reply, which was answer enough.


	4. Your Response

* * *

**Part IV**  
The Shape of a Cycle

* * *

Felix is born again in the year 723. He is from the moment he takes his first breath an unusually beautiful human being, but this fact has little bearing upon his life because of his personality. The preceding statement is meant both as a compliment and as a reprimand. Of course it is commendable that he has the good sense to appropriately value his own outward appearance, especially when such prescience comes at a young age. But to forcibly impose his values upon others requires a strength of will so intense that most would understandably find it an off-putting personality trait.

His temperament is the first reason why not a single surviving record of the time makes particular note of how lovely Felix was in this life. The second reason is that Felix’s accomplishments were more commendable than the mere luck of being born with good looks.

He grows up in a town that will later lie on the border between Fraldarius and the Plains of Itha, after the Kingdom of Faerghus is established and new maps of the continent are drawn. It is perhaps an even greater fortune than mere beauty that he is born into a lesser branch of a noble house, because it means that his family is both well-off enough to afford him an education and far away enough from the main house to carefully shield his brilliance from those who might perceive him as either an asset or a threat to the existing line of succession. These circumstances allow him freedom that a child in the main family would have been hard-pressed to attain, and resources that a child born to commoners could not have had.

Felix’s childhood is during an era preceding turmoil. In some ways, it is a more dangerous time to grow up than it would have been to be grow up during wartime itself. In an atmosphere of uncertainty, people tend to become more suspicious of everybody around them. Though part of it is natural inclination, Felix intuitively grasps the nature of the times and develops a sharp perception for reading others at a young age. With his first tutor, he learns to swing a sword – with his second tutor, he learns how battles are won – and with everybody else he meets, he learns self-preservation.

He outgrows his local teachers by the age of 14. His parents manage to gather the funds to send him to continue his education in Fhirdiad. Before the Officer’s Academy was established – which will be over 200 years into the future – in the region that would soon become known as the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, it is tradition for knights to serve as advanced instructors by taking on a small number of apprentices.

Felix first serves as an apprentice to one of the newest members of Fhirdiad’s knight-order; when his talent becomes apparent, he is quickly reassigned to a more senior knight by the name of Matthias Anthelme Dominic.

Among Matthias’s five students, only Felix and another lack a middle name. This fact is significant because in northern Fódlan, the practice of conferring a middle name developed for two symbolic reasons. The first was to differentiate the people of northern Fódlan culturally from the rest of the Adrestian Empire. The second was to confer status. During this era, the blessed bloodlines ran still thick, hence there was a strong sense of hierarchy even within the noble class – main noble houses had no need to maintain close or even cordial relationships with their branch families, as there were no concerns at the time about preserving Crests within each bloodline. Middle names were therefore reserved only for the most elite of the elite, serving almost as an informal title.

Around the turn of the tenth century, the distinction of main and branch families within noble houses will quickly collapse as Crests become scarcer; the use of middle names will become widespread for anybody who can claim even the most distant relation to a titled bloodline. The practice will become more a matter of tradition than one meant to convey levels of prestige. Eventually, social stratification will collapse into two distinct layers where there used to be many: commoners and nobles.

As such, the order between students is set with Felix firmly at the bottom immediately upon his introduction. The only other person in his cohort who lacks a middle name not only comes from an offshoot of the prominent House Blaiddyd, but he also carries a minor Crest. Thus, even the second-lowest ranked apprentice is still well above Felix in terms of station. The name of that student – as you may have expected – is Loog, the future King of Lions.

Felix was sent to Fhirdiad partially because his parents genuinely wished the best for their only child. Still, it cannot be denied that ambition laid at the heart of their decision. Felix quietly understood that, but never thought less of his parents because of it. It would perhaps be a different situation if Felix’s own goals diverged from those of his parents, but they fundamentally shared the same vision of the future. To that end, it was most important for Felix to obtain connections and enhance his reputation.

Initially, Felix had intended to ingratiate himself with the highest-ranking noble that he would see on a regular basis. He is unsociable by nature, but a lack of desire to socialize should never be mistaken for a lack of _ability_ to socialize – in fact, Felix quickly ingratiates himself with his peers and superiors. Against his expectations, though, he gains a fondness for Loog that he had not thought himself capable of before he met the other young man.

Between the two of them, they are a study in the boundaries between like and unlike. Their temperaments and their dreams differ to a degree that is nearly irreconcilable, yet the way that both of them think about the world and how to place their actions within that framework are incredibly similar.

That is to say: Felix finds Loog easy to understand, and he is easily understood by Loog in turn. The intensity of their mutual understanding is something that he feels he cannot take for granted, and it factors heavily in why Felix chooses to support Loog instead of a noble in a stronger position.

Although House Blaiddyd commands much respect and authority simply by its name, it is not in an enviable position. House Blaiddyd’s territory includes the largest span of fertile land in northern Fódlan, to the point that it will gain the nickname “Breadbasket of Faerghus” in the future. Being the largest natural source of food in the otherwise resource-scarce region means that the house carries great power, but it also makes House Blaiddyd incredibly vulnerable to both outside criticism and internal conflict. No matter what policies the household enacts within its territory, there will be consequences for those around them.

Felix’s parents lived through a time when all of those living in Fraldarius territory – even its nobles – went hungry for several years, not because of famine but because of the choices made within House Blaiddyd. Rather than ‘bad’ decisions, it was more that they were ‘strange’ decisions: House Blaiddyd had decided to give the relatively weaker House Rowe with advantageous trade agreements while spurning House Fraldarius. It is a point of contention that House Fraldarius finds difficult to reconcile even after regaining House Blaiddyd’s favor, and mystifying to the point that Felix only begins to understand how the situation came about when Loog springs an unexpected onto him almost off-handedly one late afternoon that they’re assigned to patrol the city perimeter together.

Loog asks, “Do you want to guess how many cousins I have?”

Felix knows that there are currently six nobles of his parents’ generation carrying significant regional authority who belong to House Blaiddyd. There must be even more who aren’t publicly known or whose connections to the house are not obvious. So he answers, “A conservative guess… would be about fifteen.”

“Twenty-one,” Loog replies.

That’s enough for Felix to understand how complicated the issue of inheritance is for House Blaiddyd. At this point in time, it is all but impossible for him to imagine a future where House Blaiddyd’s bloodline might dwindle down to a single scion.

Felix looks Loog in the eyes and says, “Tell me the truth. Do you want to be the next head of House Blaiddyd?”

“It isn’t that I want to lead House Blaiddyd,” Loog answers, “so much as it is that I can’t bring myself to leave that position to anybody else in the family.”

With those words, Felix understands that Loog is somebody who has the qualifications to become a great king.

 _I can support this person,_ he thinks. But he also tells himself: _This person can help me to my own ends as well._

The next time that Felix returns home, he tells his parents about Loog and about House Blaiddyd’s situation.

“I intend to help him for as long as I can,” he informs them. Though they don’t say anything, he can tell from their expressions that they doubt he is making a wise decision. It isn’t because Loog is lacking, but because House Blaiddyd’s internal circumstances are messy enough that they must doubt that anything can be done using House Blaiddyd as a channel of means.

In turn, Felix says, “If he is able to inherit the duchy and unite his territory, then would you be willing to give him your full support?”

His parents consent on the condition that Felix does not directly assist Loog in doing so. He immediately agrees, as he has other goals that he’d rather focus on while he’s still a student. He knows that improving his position within House Fraldarius will be irreplaceably useful for his own purposes, and serve as a useful leveraging point far into the future – so he must concentrate on gaining distinction and winning allies. But more than that, he simply has confidence that Loog will be able to do it on his own.

So Felix’s studies in Fhirdiad continue undisturbed. As promised, he doesn’t help Loog in his endeavors, and instead focuses on improving himself and his standing. He chooses to avoid winning awards and garnering himself conspicuous accomplishments, as he doesn’t enjoy the attention that comes along with such things. It becomes increasingly difficult to avoid drawing eyes as he grows into adulthood, so he begins to favor wearing cloaks which can at least partially obscure his face. His efforts are rewarded, as he establishes for himself a reputation as somebody with keen ability both in battle and in directing the battlefield – on the other hand, when most meet him in private for the first time, they are generally surprised to learn that his face is covered not out of shyness or because of disfiguration, but to hide his own beauty.

As Loog began his apprenticeship a year earlier than Felix, he also concludes it first. During the first six months that Felix serves as Matthias Anthelme Dominic’s most senior apprentice, he rarely sees Loog – but then there comes an unexpected announcement out of House Blaiddyd. Their line of inheritance has changed, and Loog is to become head of the household after his predecessor either passes away or abdicates his position. As the current Duke of House Blaiddyd is already old enough to have great-grandchildren, the announcement implies that Loog is now the leader of House Blaiddyd in all but name.

After hearing the news, Felix immediately drafts and sends Loog a note: “ _I expected this turn of events – still, I offer my congratulations nonetheless. I didn’t tell you this before now because I thought that you might get ahead of yourself, but I have always thought that you would be suited for leadership.”_

He then writes another note is to his parents to inform them of the success.

Even before Felix was born, the embers of rebellion have been burning in Northern Fódlan. The main reason for this is that the region is treated by the Empire very differently from the rest of Fódlan. The north is neither blessed with resources nor with viable seaports, and aside from Fhirdiad, boasts no cities of note. Eastern Fódlan houses the center of trade while Western Fódlan houses the center of governance – so work is more plentiful in those regions, and the standards of living are also superior.

The people of Northern Fódlan often have to turn to hunting and foraging to make it through the winter, especially in the years when transportation costs are higher than usual and they cannot rely on crops from other parts of the continent – to the point that even their noble children are taught wilderness survival skills at a young age. Many must make their livings as mercenaries, living off of their reputation for violence either efficient or undiscerning. Hence, there exists an unfortunate stereotype that those from Northern Fódlan are lower-class citizens than those who live elsewhere. Some of the laws and government measures that were enacted when Felix was a child suggest that the emperor and his ministers thought it preferable to scapegoat Northern Fódlan to maintain stability across the rest of the continent.

As such, many of the people who were born in the region that would become Faerghus have been raised with a deep sense of humiliation, especially those who often travel to other parts of the continent to do mercenary work. Once finished with their business, they return home and tell tales of how poorly they were treated, and the stories become even more exaggerated as they are passed around.

During his years living in Fhirdiad, Felix concludes that an uprising is inevitable. It is something that can be sensed in the streets, from the noble districts all the way to the slums – the people will unite if it is for the sake of emancipation from the empire. Therefore, Felix believes it would be preferable to take the reins and attempt to control the direction of rebellion rather than get caught up in its waves.

To that end, Felix had gambled on Loog not only because he acknowledged Loog’s innate capabilities, but also because Loog is a scion of House Blaiddyd. Because Fhirdiad is the center of Northern Fódlan, a rebellion has the greatest chance of success if House Blaiddyd can become both its anchor and its mast. As Loog has become the de facto head of household, he is therefore among the most likely nobles who might come to lead an organized uprising. Among the other candidates, Felix could honestly and sincerely say that he believes that among them, only Loog seems capable of successfully leading Northern Fódlan to secede from the Adrestian Empire.

Of course, he does not say it out loud because it isn’t in his personality to do so. Instead, he spends his remaining time as a student thinking about the necessary next steps. All houses west of Blaiddyd and north of the Oghma Mountains would almost certainly support a war and quickly rally behind Blaiddyd. The key, then, will be to gain the support of as many reliable households east of the Tailtean Plains as possible. This is why Felix has gone out of his way to make as many connections as possible while in Fhirdiad: they will come in useful when attempting to make allies to the east.

While formulating his plans, Felix takes it as given that Loog is willing to lead a war of secession. To him, it seems almost a foregone conclusion – he senses that it is something that will simply come to be with a forcefulness that goes beyond mere premonition. Felix is not one to rely on something as unfounded as intuition, but when he gets a feeling in his bones, he is almost never wrong. He decides to bide his time and wait for Loog to give a signal of his intentions. 

A month before Felix is set to conclude his studies, Felix receives a written invitation to visit one of House Blaiddyd’s branch families. He supposes that it’s likely one of Loog’s cousins attempting to maneuver power away from Loog, so Felix decides to take up the invitation as a defensive move that would allow him to assess whether Loog’s position is at risk – to his surprise, though, it is none other than Loog himself who greets him.

“You aren’t the type to take up courtesy calls,” Loog explains, after they’ve sat down for a light meal together, “so a friend of mine suggested that I try indirectly catching your attention.”

Felix is fairly certain he knows the friend that Loog is alluding to, and understands why he has been careful not to give a name. Instead of pressing the point, Felix replies, “So this is a mere courtesy call?”

“Not quite, no. It’s true that I want to extend my early congratulations, but I’m also seeking your advice,” Loog says.

“So that’s why you addressed the letter in such a roundabout way,” Felix says. It could be taken as an insult to House Fraldarius’s main family if Loog called upon a member of their branch family for guidance – that Loog has become prescient enough to understand these subtleties tells Felix bounds about how much Loog has grown in the past year.

Loog asks, “Have you heard about any other houses preparing for war?”

“Not in any serious way,” Felix answers, after a pause. “Why do you ask?”

“The long and short of it is that I was able to become House Blaiddyd’s successor by promising to lead a rebellion against the Empire,” Loog says. He sighs and closes his eyes briefly; Felix can sense that his personal circumstances are far more complex than his summarized answer, but Felix can more or less grasp the situation that Loog now faces.

Felix places his fork and knife down. He says, “Don’t take any of this as my personal advice. I’m merely talking out loud.”

He explains the circumstances from his perspective – about the inevitability of war and the houses that would quickly align themselves with House Blaiddyd if Loog is able to spearhead the rebellion. He suggests traveling to the west, to meet with the young lady-knight who gained fame across the region for defending the people against Imperial soldiers acting cruelly against commoners. If the Lion-hearted Knight were to create an alliance with the much-beloved Maiden of Wind, then they would be able to raise an army that could stand up to the Empire. Northern Fódlan is already so detached from imperial governance that there is already a framework for establishing an independent kingdom that would require very little restructuring of the institutions already in place.

Loog listens carefully, and when Felix finishes speaking, he nods slowly. Then he says, “And what about afterwards?”

“What about it?” Felix replies.

“Who is it that you see leading the kingdom after the war is won?” Loog asks.

“Loog,” Felix says after a muted pause, “I think you can become a great king. But regardless of which path you choose, I intend to support you for the rest of my life.”

Felix smiles. It is a rare occurrence – for a few moments, Loog seems too surprised to respond. Then he laughs gently and smiles in turn.

“I’ll think about it,” Loog replies. “But I want you to know that your words… they mean a lot to me. I will remember them.”

Although he will not speak the words, Felix will remember this for the rest of his life as well. It is the moment he sets his heart on seeing Loog grow into the King of Lions. And at becoming a maker of kings, Felix succeeds gloriously.

But the great knights’ tales that are read to the children of Faerghus for many centuries will contain not his name. When Felix dies, he is buried at a nameless grave at his own request. His beauty, his talent, and his name will be remembered by few – but that is how he arranged for things to be. Among those who do remember him, though, is the King of Lions, who visits his companion regularly up until his dying days.

The last time he visits Felix’s resting place, Loog touches the gravestone and smiles slightly. “I think it won’t be long until we see each other again,” he says. “Have you waited for me, Pan?”

* * *

That is not what I expected to hear. Or rather, that is not who I thought he had been.

Nevertheless, your thoughts have made it to me. I thank you sincerely for fulfilling this request of mine. I will share something with you in return. It might not make sense, but still – it is something that I wish to tell you.

I was that bird.

I was that bird and I liked the color of your hair – the same as my feathers. Also I liked the shine of your keys – so enticing. I wanted someday to hold them in my beak. But don’t misunderstand, please. I did not want to cause you any trouble. I knew that having those keys for even a second would be enough to allow me immense happiness and deep fulfillment. So I waited and hoped sometime I might get the chance.

Crows are clever. Did you know crows can recognize people? They can.

And I could recognize you.

[ ](https://www.dropbox.com/s/6iuybpvobqpjmyn/crow.png?raw=1)

Whenever I saw you returning to that place, I would fly overhead and watch you as you took your keys out. That lovely shine on your keys when you held them in your hands – it was the most tempting shine I had ever seen.

I didn’t like that dog you often kept by your side. In fact, I hated that dog. He was always so close to that which I wanted the most. And he made noises that kept me away.

One day I saw you drop your keys as you walked to your place. I swooped down from above and took those keys into my beak and for a moment I was oh so delighted. But the happiness faded quickly. I realized the keys were shinier when they were in your hands than they were in my beak. So for the first time in my life, I thought to return something to where it belonged.

I spread my wings and flew to you.

But that dog bit me and bit me and then he bit me. I dropped the keys and fell to the ground. You were making strange sounds that I did not understand. Then you touched me and your hands were so warm, so gentle. It reminded me of how it had felt when I had first hatched. I knew that the end of my life drew near but to pass the last moments of my time with you watching over me – I was content.

Soon the blood drained from my body. Then I returned.

And now… we should return to the matter at hand.

* * *

**An interlude**  
on the matter of time

* * *

You may find it somewhat disorienting that these stories defy a chronological ordering. But this is because souls are not bound to time the way that corporeal beings are. Humans are existences which exist in four dimensions but can only directly influence three. That is to say that humans are capable of moving along the axes of direction but cannot control how one moves across time. The passage of time is discernible to humans but governs humans through unchangeable laws.

On the other hand, souls are existences which exist in five dimensions but can only directly influence four: the three dimensions of direction as well as that of time. Therefore a soul is able to incarnate on the mortal plane, live out a life, die and return to the plane of souls – then reincarnate at a time on the mortal plane prior to their previous life.

A distinction should be carefully drawn here. Although souls are able to move across the dimension of time, they are still limited by their ability to control _how_ they move across the fifth dimension. It would be incorrect to say that a soul can move across the time dimension “freely”. There are restrictions strictly governed through the fifth dimension, the same way that gravity prevents humans from traveling freely along the axes of direction.

Naturally this begs the question of what the fifth dimension is. It should be clarified that this is not a matter of physics; the use of the word “dimension” is purely because the concept follows very closely to what you as a human have some familiarity with. So to describe the fifth dimension to an existence on the mortal plane is difficult because you are unable to perceive it in your reality. Even if you were return to your soul-form and ascend to the plane of souls, it would likely still even be difficult for you to comprehend fully. For example, you understand what time _is_ – but do you have any grasp of what time would _look like_ if it were something visible to you?

For now let us simply refer to the fifth dimension as something akin to “fate”. The word is not perfect but it is fitting, because the fifth dimension is one which guides existences in ways that are not easily discerned. When or – _if_ you ascend further, perhaps then you will have an epiphany on the matter.

With that aside, it is advised that you concentrate more on the ordering of lives rather than the passage of time to organize your understanding. There are things which souls carry with them even through lives. For example, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd dedicated his life to serving his people as king – and Felix Hugo Fraldarius was recorded in the records of history as a firm supporter of all his king’s endeavors. These may sound like “duties”, but a duty willingly borne for many years – could that not also be, in some sense, similar to “identity”?

* * *

It would be unfair for me to leave this story untold, I suppose.


	5. A Retelling of My Story

* * *

**Part V**  
A purpose for living

* * *

His earliest memory is of the Tailtean Plains before harvest. He watched the fields of wheat from a distance – the way that they rippled as the breeze blew through those austere stalks reminded him of the sea in that those subtle motions seemed to convey that a multitude lay just below the surface. He imagined sinking into those waves and thought that it must feel similar to being embraced. The memory both comforts and quietly strengthens him whenever he dwells upon it. He was, after all, named for those fields.

The first time that he is asked to help oversee the harvest, he is thirteen. “I look forward to it,” he says, after he is given the task. “I’ve been wanting to see the autumn fields again.”

His older cousin Eulalie laughs and pats him roughly on the shoulder. “What are you saying?” she replies. “When have you ever been to the Tailtean Plains before?”

The heroic chronicles about the King of Lions will become treasured stories retold by the people of Faerghus for many future generations. But his most difficult struggles actually come long before he ever steps foot on a literal battleground: before he can even think to unite the houses that will eventually become the noble class of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, he has to unite House Blaiddyd under his leadership. That is the duty that Dimitri is born into.

The most beloved tale of Northern Fódlan, _Loog and the Maiden of the Wind,_ starts when the eponymous character begins to raise the army that will fight in the War of the Eagle and Lion and builds towards the founding of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. The knight-tale conveniently side-steps the more complex and less savory details of how he even got to that point. Therefore, it may be convenient to distinguish between Loog, the quasi-fictional character, and Dimitri – his incarnation in reality. Another way to put this is that we shall permit Loog to be an ideal. While Loog the folk hero may be presented without serious flaws, and his story embellished to write out the parts that would have reflected poorly upon him, that is not the case for Dimitri, the person who actually lived that life.

When Dimitri was born, he was placed under the care and guidance of his first cousin, the oldest daughter of his father’s sister, who was nearly ten years his elder. To declare their intention to see her become the next head of House Blaiddyd, her parents had boldly given her a middle name after it was discovered that she had a major Crest, and she became Eulalie Diodore Blaiddyd. Together with her younger brother Eugene, Dimitri was meant to support her in her endeavors.

She was an exceptionally gifted person, but not a good role model. Her charisma was deeply personal and impossible to capture faithfully through mere emulation; a free spirit through and through, she embodied the purest heart of nobility, yet few of its mannerisms. Generous in nature, talented in bounds, and unfettered by norms, she was considered by all who knew her to be an unusual genius. It would be no exaggeration to call her one of the most promising young nobles in all of Northern Fódlan.

Dimitri would have likely been happier – or at least endured much less hardship – had he been able to remain her loyal follower throughout his years. Unfortunately, Eulalie Diodore Blaiddyd died when he was fifteen. Although nothing could be proved definitively, it was all but an open secret that she was killed by mercenaries hired by a different branch of House Blaiddyd, in an effort to secure their own scion’s position within the family. In the process of mourning her death, Dimitri learned that dignity does not come naturally to him. He had been ready to take an eye for an eye, but his desire for revenge was restrained with the following words, given to him by Eulalie’s younger brother: _“That’s not what she would have wanted you to do.”_

Very little about Eulalie Diodore Blaiddyd is recorded in history books, as she died full of potential that never blossomed into accomplishment. It is perhaps of little surprise, then, that her name does not appear in any of Loog’s folk-tales. But to Dimitri, she was like a sister, a caretaker, a mentor, and a friend all at once – even long after her passing, he will think about her often. He will spend almost every day wondering what she would have done or said if she were the one walking in his path instead; because of this, Dimitri grows up to be an unusually careful thinker.

Had Eulalie Diodore Blaiddyd not passed away unexpectedly, just before Dimitri’s sixteenth birthday, Dimitri would have become one of her apprentices. Because of her death, he instead leaves home for the first time in his life and comes under the tutelage of one of Fhirdiad’s senior knights, Matthias Anthelme Dominic. It is a political move to establish connections with House Dominic, a family of meager land holdings but boasting of many powerful mage knights.

In folk-tales, Loog is portrayed as gregarious – the type to easily befriend those around him. Dimitri is considerably muted in his sociability, but is the kind of person who doesn’t discriminate in who he talks with. He speaks the same way to those both below and above him in social standing: with a careful balance between being polite or casual. During his apprenticeship, he becomes a confidant for many of the people he meets. Very few notice that Dimitri rarely confides in return; he is always the keeper of secrets and hardly ever a teller of his own intimacies. His instinctive unwillingness to share his innermost thoughts keep most at a careful distance, but during his time as an apprentice, there are a few who manage to break through and become one of Dimitri’s truest companions.

Among them is Kyphon of House Fraldarius, whom Dimitri cannot help but think of as a composite of all the stereotypes about the children of Fraldarius. Kyphon is stalwart to the point of obstinacy, blunt in language, yet unable to sway himself with logic whenever it must compete with his compassion. If there were one trait of his that goes against the tendencies of the rest of his family, it would be that he is not particularly enthusiastic about swordplay, despite being overwhelmingly brilliant as a swordsman. Had he known that his most famous story would someday be titled _The Sword of Kyphon_ , Kyphon likely would have laughed at the irony of it.

Still, Dimitri only recognizes Kyphon’s lack of passion towards swordsmanship as he himself shares very much the same relationship with his training with a lance. He did not choose the lance because he favored it over any other weapon in particular: his family bade him to pick it, in the hopes that someday he would become Areadbhar’s wielder in Eulalie’s place.

Although he knows it’s what his family wants of him, Dimitri doesn’t seriously consider vying to become the next head of House Blaiddyd until Kyphon brings it up abruptly one afternoon, while they are on an errand for senior apprentices who have asked them to return books on strategic formations back to Fhirdiad’s humble library. “You once told me that there isn’t anyone in your family qualified to become the next Duke Blaiddyd. So do you intend to compete for House Blaiddyd’s title?” Kyphon asks.

Dimitri sighs. The question is blunt to the point of rudeness, especially considering their relative stations. Before he can dodge answering by gently chiding Kyphon for his thoughtlessness, though, Kyphon adds: “If that’s what you want to do, then I’ll tie my fate to yours.”

Kyphon’s position within House Fraldarius as a member of one of its branch families is tenuous; their internal situation is not nearly as messy as House Blaiddyd’s, but Dimitri knows well that Fraldarius is not united. As such, he also understands that Kyphon is not being metaphorical in his phrasing.

Briefly, Dimitri wonders what Eulalie would have said if she stood in his place – but the answer comes to him quickly.

“Let us chain our futures together, then,” Dimitri says.

The structure of _Loog and the Maiden of Wind_ is as follows:

  1. The exposition, of course, sets the stage for the rest of the story. It begins when Loog leaves Fhirdiad, spurred on by the peoples’ desire for freedom from Imperial reign. He travels first to win House Gautier’s aid, and then meets with his close friend Kyphon in Fraldarius. The two decide to travel west to seek the guidance of the Maiden of Wind.  
  
This part of the tale is true, if dramatized; it amalgamates a number of different meetings into one coherent narrative. Loog regularly visited the Houses Gautier and Fraldarius throughout his entire lifetime, since their territories are relatively close to Fhirdiad and both command a significant amount of authority in Northern Fódlan. He didn’t think anything special of the trips when they occurred.  
  

  2. The rising action encompasses Loog’s journey to meet the Maiden of Wind, winning her favor, raising an army, and the initial skirmishes against the Imperial Army’s attempts to establish martial rule in Northern Fódlan.  
  
The Maiden of Wind is based off of the historical figure Blanche Freya Charon. Contrary to her surname, Blanche Freya Charon bore the Crest of Daphnel through her mother, who married into House Charon for political reasons. Equally talented with magic as she was with a lance, Blanche Freya Charon gained her nickname for how agile she and her pegasus were when they took to the air. Had she been able to claim either Luin or Thunderbrand, it is possible that she alone could have become Faerghus’s liberator. Bereft of a Hero’s Relic through no fault of her own, and well aware of how her unfortunate circumstances limited what she could accomplish, she agreed to ally with Loog because their goals aligned.  
  
 _Loog and the Maiden of Wind_ portrays her as more of a damsel in distress or a symbolic figure than Blanche Freya Charon was in reality. For example, while several chapters are dedicated to how Loog and his allies united the various rebel forces across Northern Fódlan, in truth the Maiden of Wind had more or less consolidated over half of the region before ever meeting with Loog. In fact, several of the battles described in _Loog and the Maiden of Wind_ actually took place before Loog became leader of the unified army of Faerghus. To make for a more interesting narrative, these events were carefully rearranged into a coherent storyline with Loog at the center. Later generations of historians and writers alike reclaimed her tale and she became a beloved figure in her own right, as an individual.  
  

  3. The climax of the tale is the battle on the Tailtean Plains that ended the War of the Lion and Eagle. It is the part of the story that is least embellished, in the sense that very little was added to exaggerate the tale. However, certain parts of the battle were not depicted at all.  
  
For example, it was not publicly known until an unprecedented collection of private records were officially released by the royal family in the mid-1200s that Pan, advisor to the King of Lions, was a member of Those Who Slither In The Dark. His paternal grandmother, also a member, married into House Fraldarius and was able to indirectly establish a branch family. Although her husband did not yield much power on his own, she raised her children to believe in her ideology and seek allies who could also be used to that end. This was a tactic that Those Who Slither In The Dark had often used throughout history: they quietly would quietly one of their own into a noble household. Most of the time, their seeds failed to sprout – but they only ever needed one success among dozens of attempts to shape the course of history.  
  

  4. The falling action summarizes the founding of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and concludes with Loog’s marriage to the Maiden of Wind. One of the last sentences of the story calls out the title directly: _With Loog and the Maiden of Wind joined together, they became the beloved father and mother of Faerghus._  
  
It is true that Loog and Blanche were married, but this was primarily for political reasons. The Houses Blaiddyd and Charon were the most powerful families in the newly formed country – so as to keep each other in check, and place restraints on the actions that Loog and Blanche could independently take as king and queen, their families enforced their partnership. Both of them were in love with different people, but took great care to hide their paramours, knowing very well that they could not risk their relationship ever coming into question. Faerghus was too young and unstable; it would not have been able to withstand even rumors of their king and queen being anything other than a unified pair.  
  
They were careful to hide their true feelings so thoroughly that those feelings were hidden from history altogether – almost as if they never existed to begin with.



* * *

There is another thing that I wish to share with you. Now seems as good a time as any, because you can ignore it if you would prefer.

I was that chrysalis.

I was that chrysalis and then I was that butterfly. I wanted my wings to be a beautiful blue because I thought that would be a color which would catch your eyes. Of course I wasn’t thinking – I was a butterfly, so all I was doing was living, existing.

I lived for you to see me in that moment when you needed to see something living for the sake of being alive. And then I passed my time peacefully, flitting from flower to flower until the weather cooled and I could no longer move my wings. Then I returned.

That was all I wanted to say.

* * *

After resolving himself, the first person Dimitri goes to is his cousin, Eugene, the adopted son of his father’s eldest sister. After Eulalie’s death, his place within House Blaiddyd quietly disappeared – after all, his parents had taken him in with the sole intention of raising him to become Eulalie’s support and aide. Because Eugene understood his position well, he had chosen to go with dignity rather than endure abandonment, and he left to make his living independently, through his skill rather than his name.

When Dimitri tells Eugene his intentions, Eugene asks, “Who are you doing this for, Dimitri? For yourself… or for Eulalie?”

Dimitri doesn’t answer; or rather, he answers without speaking.

The two of them were raised so closely that Dimitri considers Eugene to be his brother – despite their lack of blood ties, Eugene is among the few whom Dimitri thinks of as his true family. When their eyes meet, Dimitri knows that they mutually understand each others’ intentions without the need to exchange words.

Finally, Dimitri breaks the silence by telling Eugene, “I’m sorry.”

“You know that I can’t accept your apology,” Eugene replies. Dimitri knows that he is being chided, but Eugene speaks with a gentle tone so that it doesn’t feel as if he has been scolded. Like his older sister, Eugene himself embodies the spirit of nobility in his temperament, although in a different way than Eulalie did: he is austere towards himself, yet generous to those around him.

Even still, it is an apology Dimitri must give. If Dimitri succeeds, Eugene will always be but a footnote in the records. If he does not, then both of them will be. It would surely be a more rewarding life to aspire to humbler goals, but receive due recognition for those smaller accomplishments. Because of this, Dimitri resolves within himself to do anything that he must, if it is for the sake of achieving their goals together.

This is the true story that was not told in those folk-tales.

Dimitri doesn’t become the next heir of House Blaiddyd because of either reputation or ability. He attains his position by outmaneuvering all of his competition. He and Eugene consider carefully who to make into allies and who to crush underfoot; over the better part of a year, they consolidate Dimitri’s supporters into a unified front. House Blaiddyd essentially becomes split into three factions: one that supports the main family, one that supports Dimitri, and a neutral group. While those aligned with the main family has more authority and connections, Dimitri’s faction comprises mostly of branch families consigned to less glamorous duties, like the necessary but tedious job of overseeing the Tailtean Plains every autumn during harvest time.

The main advantage that the scion of the main family has over Dimitri is legitimacy. He is the paternal grandson of the current head of House Blaiddyd, and it is an implicit fact that he was raised to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps. And it was for his sake that Eulalie Diodore died. This how Dimitri justifies killing him in turn.

It is not the first time that Dimitri takes a life, although it is the first time that he causes another human being’s death. He bloodies his own blade because he deludes himself into believing that he has a responsibility to understand the depth of his actions. He does the deed with a short sword, at close range. It disturbs him somewhat that it doesn’t feel very different to him from the act of killing an animal for the sake of self-nourishment, but the sense of unease is temporary and forgettable. Just as Eulalie’s murder was covered up as an accident, so too is the murder that Dimitri commits.

The funeral and mourning period is brief and private. The death is not announced outside of the family. A representative of the neutral faction visits Dimitri a few days afterwards and they come to a mutual agreement that they will request that the current Duke Blaiddyd make Dimitri his new heir. In exchange, Dimitri must pressure the current emperor to give Northern Fódlan more independence from centralized rule. He correctly interprets this to mean that they want the head of House Blaiddyd to lead a rebellion against the Adrestian Empire, and that they don’t particularly care who the head of household actually is. If the initiative is stolen from under their feet, then it will almost certainly be because House Charon moved before them. If a rebellion succeeds, then House Blaiddyd must be in the correct position to become the royal family of Northern Fódlan.

His answer is obvious. You have already seen the results of his resolve, after all.

Six weeks after Dimitri kills another human being for the first time as Loog, the future King of Lions, House Blaiddyd proclaims that he is their new heir. That night, he begins to dream of Eulalie, or perhaps he begins to dream the same dreams that she once held within herself. At any rate, he does not stop his dreaming until he too is resting in a grave.

* * *

**An interlude**  
on the matter of purpose (2).

* * *

Is it a fortunate thing to be born with a purpose to life?

What if your purpose in life only makes it harder to live? It might be natural to ascribe a positive connotation to the word “purpose”. But there are certainly negative reasons to live as well – purposes that are corrosive or evil or even simply petty.

Take the following scenario: you are born to a village. This village has a tradition of sacrificing one of its inhabitants every decade. The tradition can either be mired in superstition or have a practical purpose – the reason the tradition exists is not important to this thought experiment. Unfortunately, it is decided upon your birth that you are the one who must be sacrificed. If you fail to fulfill this role, then your family and loved ones will surely suffer – either because the sacrifice was not performed or because the village will socially ostracize them or a combination of both. It is not possible for you to escape without causing at least some people whom you genuinely care for a significant amount of pain.

Would that not make you feel genuine anguish?

Take another scenario: you are born with a genuine passion for invention. But someday, one of your inventions will be used to create a great and terrible weapon. It will kill many people. It will kill far more people than your other inventions will help.

Would that not make you wish that you had never invented anything in the first place?

One final scenario: you are born a young noble. Your fate will be tied to your friend, the prince, no matter what path he takes through life. If he despairs and dies miserably, without neither meaning nor hope, then so will you. Only upon the slimmest of chances that the right stars align will he survive and become king. And you will gain nothing for it. You will never be rewarded for your companionship.

Would that not make you wish you had been born free and untied to begin with?

I wonder…

* * *

I felt as if I heard you speak. “You wonder about something like that?” – I believe that’s what I heard you say. The way you spoke those words – no. I should not presume about what tone that you meant to take with me.

Instead, I will wait for your reply.


	6. A Retelling of Your Story

* * *

**Part VI**  
What if, rather than speaking or dreaming  
of an absolute beginning, we speak of a leap?

* * *

As he rounds the block to his apartment, Felix takes his keys out of his pocket and promptly drops them onto the pavement for no particular reason. The spasm of clumsiness is simply one of those inexplicable and unavoidable events that everybody experiences on occasion.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Felix mutters as he reaches down to pick them up. That his fingers slipped does not irritate him; rather, it is the brief and jarring awareness of his own human fallibility that annoys him.

The dog accompanying Felix stays sitting at his side obediently and watches as Felix retrieves his keys before proceeding on. Right as they stand in front of the door of Felix’s apartment, a crow caws loudly from across the street, causing the dog to let out a series of barks. Felix sighs deeply and says to himself, “Bad omens.” And then – “I’ve got to stop saying superstitious things like that, I sound like my parents.”

After the dog has calmed down, Felix opens the door. He lets the dog in first, then steps in and closes the door behind him. He opens all the windows before sitting down on the floor.

“It’s so quiet,” he says out loud.

Felix lays back, splaying his limbs out. He looks up at the ceiling. A breeze comes in from the windows – the sensation is pleasant against his skin. Though he isn’t sure why, he gets the feeling that something is missing; he wonders idly if he left something at his parents’ house that he’d meant to bring with him. Finding that nothing comes to mind, Felix closes his eyes and continues to pass the time.

He isn’t sad, but he feels like he might cry – if only to show to himself that there are still emotions remaining within that wish to be expressed.

The dog circles around Felix several times but eventually lies down next to Felix, carefully resting his head on Felix’s stomach. The warm weight against his body is comforting. “At least you’re still here,” Felix says out loud, before he reaches to place his hand on the dog’s head in turn.

It is the Imperial Year 2020 and the season is spring. Fódlan is different enough from how it was eight-odd centuries ago that its evolution to what we will consider the “current era” merits discussion before proceeding with the story of Felix’s second incarnation.

After the Great War, technological innovation advanced at a rapid pace. Two major schools of scientific inquiry emerged and are held in equal regard with respect to their impacts on society. The first field is the study of the interactions between technology and magic, while the second field is the development of technologies independent of magic.

Standards of living were drastically improved across all levels of society, as proactive government policies ensured that the gains from innovation were distributed in a remarkably egalitarian way. Agricultural yields increased thanks to the development of techniques that disperse faith-based magics into soil, such that even the most barren of lands could sustain crops – alongside advances in the preservation and transportation of foods, starvation became a near non-issue across the continent. After matters of sustenance were secured, inventors turned their attention to the production and storage of energy for various purposes, but especially for daily usage. Electricity became a publicly provided resource during the 1920s. In the decades following, there was an explosion of new appliances created to improve the quality of day-to-day life.

There has also been a considerable and consistent emphasis placed upon the creation and maintenance of a national transportation infrastructure. As early as 1191, a royal decree was issued devoting a fraction of the government’s annual budget to reducing the travel times between Fódlan’s major cities and agricultural hubs, as well as improving the safety of travel. By the turn of the millennia, it was possible to travel between any two points on the continent in a matter of hours.

On the other hand, Fódlan lags behind in its communications infrastructure compared to its bordering neighbors. While radios are available for public use, private usage is restricted – and nothing resembling television has yet been developed. Similarly, the organized study of computing processes is only in its nascent stages.

In the year 2020, Felix turns 27 years old, but he too is still in a nascent stage. Two months preceding the beginning of this story, he quit his job. It had been at a well-regarded research institute – his work laid in the first field of scientific inquiry. He researched ways to integrate faith magic into specialized devices for the rehabilitation of people with certain chronic disabilities. After he’d pioneered a technique to disperse magic throughout the body in small but controlled bursts, Felix had widely been considered a rising young star in his field.

But without warning, Felix handed in his two-week notice. He didn’t explain to anybody why he made such a sudden and extreme lifestyle change before going through with it. And he did not have any plans for what to do after leaving his job: he freely admitted as much to anybody who cared to ask.

For about two months, all Felix did was pass the time. Then spring came. This is where we begin.

One afternoon, Felix happens to cross paths with a casual acquaintance on his way back home from going nowhere in particular. Her name is Flayn and she ranks among the most peculiar of everybody whom Felix knows. This is something that Felix mentally notes as a fact rather than an oddity. Flayn asks him to join her for a walk around the area and – having nothing else to do – he decides to take her up on it.

“Was there something you wanted to talk about?” Felix asks. Exchanging courtesies is not his forte; he has always preferred to take the chance of delving into a deep conversation and running the risk of having it go poorly over engaging in a conversation where many words are spoken and yet nothing of value is communicated.

“If I might ask, how long has it been since you left your job?” Flayn says.

Felix frowns as he counts the days backwards in his head. “Nine weeks or so,” he finally answers. “Why?”

“It shows in your face,” Flayn says, “that you have not been talking to people regularly.”

“Once you stop, it’s easy to keep going like that,” Felix replies. He shrugs.

“But it is not like that for everybody. You do understand that, I hope?” Flayn asks.

Felix wonders if she means to imply that there is something abnormal about him or if he’s being overly sensitive. He shrugs again.

Apparently unbothered by Felix’s lack of a substantial response, Flayn says, “When I saw you circling around earlier, I was reminded of a young man I knew from long ago… I remember there was once a time when he seemed as if he was at a crossroads and was uncertain what to do with himself. Can you hazard a guess as to what I advised him to do back then?” Flayn raises a hand to her mouth and giggles politely.

The juxtaposition of Flayn’s youthful mannerisms and her mature way of speaking has a unique charm that even Felix cannot fail to notice. To Felix, there is something reassuring about the contrast; it is as if Flayn herself represents what it is to live in between two states – not yet after, but neither before. If anybody else had asked him such a vague and ill-formed question, Felix imagines that he would have been annoyed. Such open-ended questions resist being answered correctly, which Felix believes defeats the point of asking to begin with. But there is a youthful innocence to the way that Flayn presents the question which makes it difficult for Felix to feel frustrated.

After a few moments of silence on Felix’s end, Flayn tells him the answer. Cheerfully, she says, “I told him to cut fruit!”

“I can also cut fruit,” Felix replies after a pause. He frowns. If there is a point to her anecdote, he cannot discern what it is.

“Well, that was him and you are you,” Flayn says. “The reason I told him that is that I thought he might find meaning somewhere he did not expect to find it. So if there is something you are looking for, then perhaps that advice may have some value to you as well.”

Felix looks at her and she looks back. He can see himself reflected in her eyes, proportions distorted by the curvature of her irises. Although his reflection is not accurate to reality, still it is surely himself whom he sees looking at her in the meet of their gazes.

That he recognizes himself despite everything is what spurs him to be honest with her. He asks suddenly, “Have you ever felt like there’s something empty within you?”

“There are different kinds of emptiness,” Flayn replies gently. She seems unbothered by Felix’s sudden, unprovoked subject change, almost as if she had anticipated it. “Which is the sort that you are thinking of?”

“Emptiness like you’re longing for something that you never even had in the first place,” Felix answers.

Flayn is visibly startled by how quickly the reply came. Felix knows he has indirectly revealed to her that this is something he has contemplated thoroughly. In front of most other people, Felix may have called this vulnerability – in front of Flayn, it feels instead like sincerity.

After a pause, she collects herself. Flayn tilts her head and says, “There have been times when I felt there was something lacking within myself… but I cannot say I have ever experienced the kind of emptiness you have described. But I do not think this is anything you have to worry about, Felix. After all… I am me and you are you.”

“I’m not worried,” Felix says. His response is not a lie. “I was only wondering. That’s all.” But that is not the truth.

“Then you have my response,” Flayn tells him. “In return, allow me a question of my own. Do you have anything that you want to do, Felix?”

They continue to walk. Felix brings his hands up to his face and cups them over his nose and mouth briefly. He closes his eyes and breathes out slowly before letting his hands fall to his sides. Then he looks back at Flayn.

“I’m passing time,” he finally answers. “I’m just passing time.”

Flayn smiles patiently and says, “There is nothing wrong with that. It took me many years to finally believe that, though, so I hope you are able to accept it as truth faster than I did.”

Though he had not been looking for encouragement, Flayn’s reply soothes Felix greatly. He realizes that he had not known he wanted to hear words to reaffirm him until they had already been spoken.

“Let us walk together again sometime,” Flayn tells him before they part ways. 

Felix smiles at her – it is only the slightest upward angling of the corner of his lips, but the expression is genuine.

On his way home afterwards, Felix notices a cocoon firmly attached to a tree near his apartment. While Felix has passed the time, he feels that he has perhaps become more attuned to the natural things around him; he notices things that he would have overlooked not long ago. The smell of flowers blooming has a subtle fragrance that carries to his nose. He hears birds chirping as he wakes up every morning, before he has fully awoken. Even though summer is coming in unusually hot – and Felix is sensitive to the heat – even the slightest breeze feels cool upon his skin. Lately, he has not felt uncomfortable walking around outside, even in the stifling humidity that always envelopes Fhirdiad before the rain comes.

As usual, the same crow is standing on the rafters of the building across from Felix’s apartment when he returns. “Bad omens,” he says reflexively as he opens the door. “Or maybe it’s just _an_ omen.”

As he steps into his apartment, his dog barks. Felix turns around to close the door behind him and catches a glimpse of the crow flying off.

As with many of the events and trends that have shaped Fódlan’s history, Crests were a central reason that technology advanced so rapidly, but not because of their existence – rather, the dilution of the Crests’ potency became worse and worse with each generation, so there came a pressing necessity to rid society of its dependency on the existence of Crests. Not only did the power of Crests weaken over time, but the likelihood of inheriting a Crest dwindled. Families stopped regularly testing their children for Crests by the 1900s, as the advantages they conferred were slim at best, especially after generic weaponry with comparable power to Heroes’ Relics was developed. At most, a Crest might confer a slight aptitude for magic or a moderate hardiness to the body – but the advantages are small enough that a sufficient amount of hard work from an individual without a Crest could easily overcome the abilities of somebody with a Crest who put in minimal effort.

The concept of nobility decoupled from the existence of the Crests, but even still the prominence of noble houses declined. With only a few exceptions, very few in the noble class struggled against their obsolescence, because it was well-understood that nobility had lived to see the end of its purpose. No longer were noble houses more qualified to protect and lead the common people simply by merit of being born noble. While noble lineages are still tracked and their family names carry informal authority, most houses willingly relinquished any governmental power they held by the mid-1950s, with the remaining stragglers abdicating over the following decade.

So neither having a Crest nor being born into a noble bloodline are regarded more as curiosities in 2020 than anything of material value. These are the sorts of facts that one might discover about a childhood friend well into adulthood – “You never told me you had a Crest!” “It never came up!” And the discovery would not change a single thing.

All that said, in this life Felix has a minor Crest and can trace his lineage directly to a noble family. It means very little to him. But perhaps in the grand scheme of existence, it does mean _something._

When Felix had been employed, he spent his days developing methods to treat various forms of physical disability. He thought he’d enjoyed it until one day he realized he didn’t gain any sense of fulfilment from his work itself – he felt satisfied only when he had completed something, _because_ he had completed something.

After thinking about his situation carefully, Felix realized that what had carried him thus far was likely a matter of momentum. He went to school and dedicated himself to doing well in his studies because it was expected of him. When he chose to research the use of faith magic in technological innovation, it was for two reasons. The first was that he felt that it was correct for him to do something which would make the world a better place. The second was that he happened to go to a school that happened to excel in the field. In fact, when Felix was still taking his general coursework, he consistently performed better in reason magic than he did with faith. But because one of his instructors had strongly encouraged him to apply for a faith-intensive academic program, he dropped his studies of reason magic and never picked them up again.

As for his research, he had simply followed the obvious course of advancement that his senior researchers had already trailblazed. It is true that he could not have accomplished what he did without a combination of hard work and talent. But Felix would be hard-pressed to call himself a true innovator.

That fact by itself did not bother him. Only a rare handful of people can be considered the kind of genius able to consistently create something new where before there had been nothing – Felix, who has always seen himself clearly, does not think less of himself because he cannot count himself among those elite. Rather, it was the sudden _awareness_ of the fact that he had come so far acting upon such a hollow purpose which left him perturbed.

 _What was the point of all that?_ he wondered.

 _If I had gone to a different school, wouldn’t my life have been completely different?_ he thought.

 _I probably would have been fine with doing anything,_ he judged.

He began to wonder if he could find a sense of meaning in something if he took a few steps back and reevaluated his life. The difficulty with momentum is that it becomes harder to stop once it has built up motion; Felix could think of something no less drastic than quitting his job in order to bring his life to a state of stillness. After considering his options carefully, Felix decided to conclude the project he had been working on, which had conveniently moved into its final phase, before revisiting the question of whether he should leave or stay.

Every day for a month, Felix instructed a coworker on how to administer a carefully-developed care regimen to an in-patient who had agreed to be part of an experimental treatment to restore motor functions to one of their legs. At the end of the thirty days, though, no significant improvements were noted.

Felix had decided to stay if he had felt disappointed with the results. If he felt disappointment, he reasoned, that would be evidence that he truly cared about what his work stood for.

He hadn’t. Felix had felt nothing in particular. So he left.

Just as Felix begins to settle into his new state of being, something abrupt and strange occurs. It happens when he is accompanying his dog on an evening walk. A crow swoops in from behind Felix; he barely catches it out of the corner of his eye and he flinches automatically when he notices. Before he can fully register what is happening, his dog lunges at the bird, sinking teeth into flesh. Frozen in place, all Felix can do is witness all of this unfold. The crow cries out – and it drops something that it was holding.

“Stop it,” Felix says. Even though he doesn’t know what to do, he lurches forward in an abrupt, awkward motion. He thinks he should try to pry his dog’s jaw open, but it occurs to him that this might further injure the bird – and it could hurt his dog as well. Felix’s hands falter before he can do anything.

As if sensing Felix’s distress, the dog lets go of the bird. Felix tries to catch the bird before it hits the ground, but he doesn’t make it in time. The crow will die – Felix has never witnessed death so close before, but it is something he can sense instinctively. Even still, he attempts to grasp the bird as gently as he can, without agitating its injuries, and wonders frantically if there is a way to save its life.

Before Felix can force himself into a state of mind such that he might be able to think up a plan of action, the bird passes away. For some reason – perhaps because of the proximity of this event – Felix feels a sense of personal devastation.

Slowly, he places the bird back onto the ground. Only then does he notice what it is that the crow had dropped. It is a ring of keys.

It takes several more moments for Felix to realize that the keys are _his._

Felix isn’t sure what to make of the situation. This is something that he doesn’t think he can easily forget, and he feels something about all of this that goes beyond a simple sadness. There is a complexity to his emotions that arises from contradiction. The feelings from his heart cannot agree with that which he knows is rational.

His dog nudges Felix’s leg with his nose and Felix is relieved to discover that at least the way he feels towards his dog hasn’t changed: he is still Felix’s companion.

Felix decides to at least put the bird into a bag before disposing of it, so he returns to his apartment and washes his hands thoroughly before gathering the things he will need. He leaves his dog at home. Mysteriously, when he goes back to where he left the bird, it is already gone. Felix decides to believe that perhaps a miracle occurred when he wasn’t looking, even though he can’t completely convince himself of it.

After a few days, Felix realizes the crow must have been the one which often roosted across from his apartment. He hadn’t thought that the bird’s presence was something that he would miss once gone, but he does.

Every once in a while, Felix meets with a close friend of his for lunch. That isn’t to say that she’s the only one willing to see Felix – in fact, Felix is blessed with a number of friends whom he cares for and who care for him in turn. It is precisely because Felix is capable of building good rapport with his friends that they understand that what he needs is space to accompany his time. In other words: it is because they worry about him that they believe he is doing what he needs to do, and it is because they respect him that they choose not to interfere with his choices.

But she is the only one he regularly sees as he passes time; it seems a natural extrapolation of their existing friendship, as she and Felix studied together for almost ten years before briefly parting to take different jobs, only to reunite at the same research institute after a few years more. Her name is Bellamy, but Felix often calls her Bell because he thinks that her laugh has a curious ringing quality to it.

It is during their fourth meeting after Felix quit his job that Bellamy tells him, “This is supposed to be confidential, but they’re reopening the project you had been working on.”

“Did something happen?” Felix asks. He isn’t sure if he asks to be polite and advance the conversation, or if he actually cares to know.

“I’m not sure,” Bellamy replies. “But Adam mentioned earlier this week that he’d feel a lot better about his workload if you’d come back.”

Felix smiles thinly and says, “Of course he would. How many documents has he filed late since I left?”

Bellamy laughs her ringing laugh, which is answer enough. Felix pauses to enjoy the sound of it before he continues. “I don’t mind the idea of coming back eventually,” he says, “although I don’t particularly want to come back either.”

“You know that you’d be rehired on the spot, right?” Bellamy replies.

“Sure,” Felix says.

She reaches over and briefly touches Felix’s hand where it rests on the table between them. “Don’t feel pressured, though,” she says. “I just want to remind you that you’ve a place to call your own, if you ever want to return to it. If you ask me, you should take as much time as you want. After all, you’ve pretty much never done anything bad or wrong in your entire life.”

“Really?” Felix asks, after a pause. “I seem to remember getting up to some childish mischief back in the day.”

“Sure, but you were never the one saying, _Oh, we should do this, we should do that._ You would only follow somebody else’s lead,” Bellamy replies.

Her response is too immediate for Felix’s liking. He frowns and taps his finger irritably on the table several times before he stills his hand. Finally, he says, “I’ve never thought about it… Maybe you have a point. But could you make it sound less like I’m having a late-delayed juvenile rebellious phase?”

Bellamy laughs and replies, “I’m afraid I simply can’t do that, Felix!”

Something about the clear sincerity behind the way she speaks erodes the negativity that was threatening to form around Felix. He smiles slightly and says, “Well, then, I’ll take your advice and go at my own pace.”

“And take a little extra if you feel like it,” Bellamy tells him. From there, the conversation flows to a new topic naturally as she begins to explain in detail the paperwork overflowing on her desk, which keeps her from doing the kind of work she actually enjoys – Felix pays attention to the shape of the conversation but not the details. He does this out of a sense of self-preservation, as he wants to enjoy his time with his friend without holding jealousy or resentment close to his heart. And indeed, when their hour together comes to an end, he remembers only good things about their conversation: the way she encouraged him, the sound of her laughter, a promise of having a place to return to.

On the cusp of summer, an unusual event occurs. Ultimately, it is a small thing – it is strange only because it was wholly unexpected.

Felix doesn’t actively check on the cocoon that he’d noticed all those weeks ago every time he passes it, but he does nurture a subtle curiosity about it. Someday, he knows, he will either leave or return home only to find on his way that the cocoon has been emptied since last he saw it. But by some odd coincidence, Felix happens to be there at the moment that the cocoon begins to metamorphosize.

[ ](https://www.dropbox.com/s/jemii4lexbjsacf/bfly.png?raw=1)

It happens on a sunny afternoon. On his way back, Felix stops and crouches to inspect the cocoon as he always does. But as if it had been waiting for him, the chrysalis begins to unfold. Transfixed by the serendipity of the event, Felix watches as the butterfly within slowly emerges and spreads its wings. And within Felix, it feels like something within him that had been stopped begins to stir ever so slightly.

Although the weather is warm, Felix shivers. He realizes almost immediately: he must do something to preserve this sense of motion before it stops again.

When he gets home, he pulls out the personal notebooks he’d used when he was working. From there on, he begins thinking every day about the treatment he had been developing before he left. Rather than framing it as something to accomplish, though, he makes a deliberate effort to think about the whole thing as a system. Reconsidering the treatment piece by piece, and then as a cohesive whole, he begins to understand intricacies that he had previously overlooked.

When Felix realizes that there is more for him to learn and improve upon, it brings forth within him a muted but undeniably positive feeling. To call the emotion “happiness” or “joy” is not quite correct. Rather than describing a momentary experience, it is more akin to something that sinks into his general state of being.

Once he reaches the limits of all that he can do with pen and paper by himself, he takes a copy of his academic records and a brief work resume along with him to his former workplace in the late afternoon, when he knows most people will be busy. The person at the front desk is the same person he greeted every day when heading into work for years. “Hey, it’s you,” Adam says.

“I’d like to apply for a job,” Felix replies without preamble.

“Okay, sure,” Adam says.

Felix frowns and puts his paperwork onto the reception desk in front of Adam. “Right, so take these,” he finally says, when it becomes apparent that Adam isn’t going to move.

“By ‘okay, sure’, I meant that you’re hired,” Adam tells him. “All of us who work the front desk were told to let you back whenever you feel like it, so… just get back at it tomorrow at the usual time, I guess. I’ll tell everybody you’re back so they aren’t surprised. You don’t want any fanfare around your grand return, right?”

Adam smiles knowingly. Within Felix, old feelings quickly resurface. He sighs and shakes his head, which is answer enough.

“See you tomorrow,” Adam says when Felix turns to leave.

When he goes to work the next day, nobody tells him _welcome back;_ it is as if he’d merely taken a vacation. Felix wants to find it irksome that everybody seemed to think that he would be back eventually, but instead he feels something warm at the fact that Bellamy’s words had proved true: _You’ve a place to call your own._

It isn’t something that he can take for granted.

He is assigned to the same project that he’d been working on before he left. Although the initial treatment was unsuccessful, his colleagues had continued to make progress on it in Felix’s absence. After combining their new ideas with those that Felix had developed on his own, they quickly come up with a new technique for dispersing faith magic that minimizes unwanted interactions with the medicines also used in the treatment. It leverages some of the core fundamentals behind efficient application of reason magic. Using techniques that were once exclusively in the field of reason is uncommon but not unheard of in the medical field; Felix is praised for his insight after proposing the readjustments. After several iterations, his team finalizes a treatment regimen for testing.

The first patient to complete the final version of the treatment is a young boy with a congenital condition that caused paralysis in his right leg; motor function is successfully restored without any short-term complications. Felix never meets with the patient personally, nor can he access the boy’s identification information – but he hears many years later that the patient has comfortably grown into his teenage years and has remained almost extraordinarily healthy. It is something that he carries with him for the rest of his life.

* * *

I understand now. I apologize. For what, I cannot put into words, but allow me a moment to collect my thoughts. I appreciate it, though – your consideration.


	7. Quietly, I recalled that...

He asked me if I remembered the first time that we met. When I looked at him, I felt as if I knew him yet I understood so little of him.

He had just told me about one of his lives – he had experienced a peculiar circumstance. Two of his lives had happened almost concurrently: he had been born into the same family twice in one year. As one, he had not been fond of his other, and they had avoided being near each other as much as possible. The former disliked the latter’s naïveté and obstinacy, while the latter disliked the former’s bluntness and pessimism. Rather than pondering how rare such a coincidence must be, I instead admired the way that he talked about himself: with careful impartiality, and without hiding anything about himself. “He bore his soul to me.” Those words would be accurate, I think.

At the end of his story, he asked me, “Do you remember the first time that we met?” It felt like an abrupt change of subject, but not unnatural. Up until that moment, I thought that I had known the first time that we met – but he knew I remembered my life as Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. So that couldn’t have been the correct answer.

I didn’t answer. Of course, he knew what my silence meant.

“There was something you told me after we went home that I think about often,” he said, and the way he spoke those words made me think about winter in Faerghus.

When he’s not near, I think that I miss him the same way that I might miss the moon on a cloudy night. Even though I know that it remains in the sky yet unseen, still I am filled with a sense of longing.

Then he said, “Anyway, you didn’t seem surprised to hear my story.”

I wasn’t. Because I had already known that when I was Loog, 

[ ](https://www.dropbox.com/s/30prtepuf4d07i0/loog.png?raw=1)

he had also been Kyphon. 


	8. That was when I began to realize...

* * *

**Part VII**  
A reason for dying

* * *

It is no coincidence that Dimitri’s and Felix’s later lives have involved each other. When two souls are close to each other in their human lives, they tend to continue to gravitate towards each other when they return to the plane of souls, and therefore also have a tendency to reincarnate near each other in their subsequent lives. This phenomenon might be the explanation for a certain myth that star-crossed lovers who meet a tragic end may be reborn as twins: the desire to simply be near each other manifests itself strongly in their reincarnation. Of course, that is not to say that lovers will remain lovers in their next lives – after all, almost nobody actually remembers their past lives. It is but an influence that affects where in relation to each other they are reborn – close or far? – and not the type of relation that they will share.

However, it is something of an oddity that their later lives have _repeatedly_ involved each other. To put it in perspective, consider the course of your friendships over your life to date. Most people have had “school friends”: they are the people you are friends with in school, but only because you were at the same school – had proximity not put you in the same place for long periods of time, it is unlikely that you would have ended up close to those people. After the same place tied you together no longer, your friendship also faded. It is nothing to be ashamed of. Most things that begin must also end, after all.

Some of us do have childhood friends who remain close with us for most of our lives. The analogous experience for souls, though, is much less plausible. It would be akin to having a childhood friend, forgetting them entirely, reacquainting yourself with them, and finding a new and meaningful relationship with them – before forgetting them yet again. It is natural to assume that at some point along the line, the cycle will end, if only because it is difficult for us (being mortal and ephemeral creatures) to truly understand the concept of eternity.

So you understand now how strange it is that Dimitri’s and Felix’s lives have intersected as many times as they have.

But they aren’t the only ones who have reincarnated nearby over and over again. Have you noticed the presence of others who should be familiar to you? They may go by different names – but if you look, then you will see. Their paths aren’t as tied to Dimitri or Felix as Dimitri and Felix appear to be tied to each other, but it serves as proof that the bonds they formed were true and profound.

Perhaps that’s all that needs to be said on this point. The connections they made with those around them were genuine.

* * *

That is to say, you are valued sincerely. I hope that isn’t something you doubt about yourself. As for me, I suppose it is less a matter of doubting and more a matter of deserving. But that is neither here nor there.

I think it is my turn to respond to you, isn’t it?

* * *

It is the year 2041 when Dimitri, a graduate student in history, begins to finish a years-long endeavor to become a professor.

Although the era of the Ten Elites is more popular for historical study when Dimitri starts preparing to finish his studies, he stalwartly insists on dedicating the main chapter of his thesis to an interpretation of the Savior King’s reign. The reason that the later era has fallen out of vogue within academia is mostly due to a sense that all that needs to be written about King Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd’s rule has already been penned. Records from the period are well-preserved and as time passes, it becomes more and more unlikely that new artifacts will be discovered – hence, it would be difficult but not impossible to write any more on the topic that would not be regarded as a waste of ink. But this fails deter Dimitri, despite the main warnings he receives ahead of submitting his thesis proposal.

When he forms his reading committee, Dimitri asks a professor from his university’s Department of Language and Literature to serve as his out-of-subject advisor, who has a reputation for having a sharp memory when it comes to historical events and is a popular choice for external advisor.

“I’m curious about why you want to concentrate on the Savior King’s era,” the professor asks when they first meet to discuss Dimitri’s proposal. “It’s to my understanding that this would be a difficult topic… and that your in-department advisors would likely prefer it if you chose an earlier era to work with instead.”

“It was reading about that time period that made me interested in history in general,” Dimitri answers. “Of course, I enjoyed the tales about the Ten Elites when I was young as well, but… to be honest, when I read the tales about the Savior King and his peers as a child, I almost thought of them as my own friends. That’s how real they felt… and how they still feel to me.”

The professor is silent.

Dimitri tries his best to past a sudden, sharp worry that the lack of response does not bode well. Internally, a quiet sense of fear curls somewhere below his stomach; he pauses and primly clasps his hands in his lap, pressing the thumb of his right hand into one of the pressure points in his left palm. Then he continues to speak: “Perhaps that was a juvenile sentiment to express. I realize that feelings alone aren’t enough to produce results. Of course, I also have confidence in –”

“I don’t think it juvenile in the least,” the professor interrupts, “if anything, I respect that sense of ardor. In light of that… I’ll agree to serve as one of your advisors.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Dimitri immediately says, smiling widely as he hands the forms over to be signed.

“No need for such formalities,” the professor replies. “You can call me Seteth.”

In the course of his studies, Dimitri has spent many days and nights reading about the Savior King – but Dimitri’s interest in the Savior King is tangential to a passionate curiosity for the people immediately surrounding him. He has always held a fondness for Duke Felix Hugo Fraldarius in particular, so Dimitri decides to consider whether it is feasible for him to write a paper on the Shield’s Successor.

A summarized organization on the major topics of academic study regarding Felix Hugo Fraldarius circa 2044 follows.

First, it is well-known that he was a childhood friend to the then-crown prince, along with Ingrid Brandl Galatea and Sylvain Jose Gautier. All four would rise to prominence both together and separately; in the region formerly encompassed by the Kingdom of Faerghus, they are often affectionately referred to as the Four Cornerstones of modern Fódlan due to the various social advances that each of them pioneered. Felix Hugo Fraldarius in particular is often cited to be a major driving force towards class equality within Fódlan legal and political systems, who personally promoted certain meritocratic rules of governance which are still extant in current-day Fódlan. He is also known to be among the first wave of nobles who chose his heir based not on a Crest (or lack thereof) but overall qualification.

Second, it is theorized that Felix Hugo Fraldarius was the first in line to inherit the duchy even before the passing of his older brother, and that this may explain his attitude later in life towards matters of succession and stalwart support towards forward-looking social policies. Most recent publications on Felix Hugo Fraldarius discuss the validity of this theory from different perspectives. Circumstantial evidence in favor includes the following: that he had a major Crest during a time when Crests were extremely valued, the fact that his father was willing to allow his older brother to pursue a knighthood, and the differences in childhood education that the brothers received.

The last of these points is often cited as the strongest argument in favor of Felix’s precedence within the family lineage. His older brother was educated in Fhirdiad at a school exclusively attended by those aspiring to enter Faerghus’s knight order. While no less prestigious than the Officer’s Academy, the two schools’ curriculums fundamentally differed; whereas young nobles at the Officer’s Academy had a broad education that would prepare them to be leaders as well as warriors, the knight order focused exclusively on training its students to eventually enter the Royal Guard. While students at Garreg Mach socialized with children of prominent families across the continent, the squires in Fhirdiad were privy to matters of military secrecy that even most royals were not. This suggests that Felix had unofficially been considered the Fraldarius heir since his major Crest was publicly announced, but because his older brother passed away before Felix’s coming of age – which is when an updated order of succession would have traditionally been announced – it cannot be definitively proved or disproved.

Finally, Felix Hugo Fraldarius never married. This topic is more popular in casual texts – books aimed towards the general population, that is – and often has the feel of gossip about it. If one read such books a little too seriously, then one could find reason to believe that Felix Hugo Fraldarius was party to a secret love affair with practically anybody and everybody across the continent – which seems unlikely to be true, because common sense precludes the conclusion.

After a few weeks of review, Dimitri is forced to conclude that writing a full paper on Felix Hugo Fraldarius may be too ambitious, so he submits a proposal for a less niche topic in the same era to his advisors for review. The proposal is quickly approved by his in-department advisors; to Dimitri’s surprise, it is Seteth who delays his approval and asks Dimitri for an in-person meeting.

The point of the meeting quickly makes itself apparent after exchanging polite greetings. “Have you given up on your original research topic?” Seteth asks.

“It’s not that I’ve given up,” Dimitri replies. “But right now, above all else… I need something that I know I can finish by the submission deadline. Writing a paper on Felix Hugo Fraldarius is something I’d like to do, but I don’t have the time to develop a new theory and I don’t have any new materials to bring to the table.”

Seteth nods thoughtfully. Then he says, “So if you had access to unpublished documents from the time, that could change things significantly.”

“Yes, although my hopes aren’t high. I’ve contacted members of the family before, asking if there was anything that may have been handed down, but the impression that I got is that there’s either nothing or they don’t want to make whatever they have public,” Dimitri replies.

A measured silence falls between them. Although Dimitri had felt relaxed at the beginning of the conversation, he can sense tension building the longer that words are not spoken. He can’t tell if the pressure is external, attempting to push him out – or internal, attempting to crush him from within.

Just when it begins to feel unbearable, Seteth says, “I happen to know a person that might be able to help you. I can ask if he’d be willing to contact you, although I can’t promise that anything will come of it.”

“Ah, of course! I understand completely – like I said, I’ve tried asking members of the family before, and in general, people don’t like the idea of parting with things that are so precious,” Dimitri says. He is speaking too quickly, so he clears his throat and forces himself to regain his bearings. “I’m grateful for the offer, Professor, and I – ”

Seteth cuts in: “No, you misunderstand. The person I’m thinking of is… let’s just say he marches to the beat of his own drum. The Fraldarius family always does seem to produce an eccentric in every generation…”

Dimitri isn’t sure what Seteth means to imply or if he’s looking for a response – so Dimitri decides to nod politely and wait for Seteth to give another cue. He watches as Seteth sighs and looks out his office window. If he had to say, the way that Seteth gazes towards the sky is filled with nostalgia, although that strikes him as an odd emotion to have in this situation.

“Professor?” Dimitri says, hoping to gently nudge him back into the present conversation. “I’d like to thank you again for the kind offer. I swear, I’ll make the most of it.”

Seteth smiles. Something about the moment right before the smile is replaced with Seteth’s usual, vaguely stern expression feels familiar to Dimitri, but he cannot quite place why. “I hope to hear that things go well for you soon. I’ll post you a note once I’ve arranged things for you. Be well, Dimitri,” Seteth says.

Seteth’s contact is a distant member of the Fraldarius bloodline and has a different surname. Although Dimitri has previously put in a great deal of effort towards tracing the Fraldarius family down to its still-budding branches, there were practical difficulties in tracking down those who had changed their names, and Dimitri hadn’t thought it worth going any further through public records than he already had. The main reason is that he had assumed, reasonably enough, that those further from the main trunk of the family tree were less likely to be the recipients of family heirlooms. But he had also felt somewhat invasive pursuing things that far. Many descendants of former noble houses in this day and age are so far removed from their original lineages that they themselves are unaware that they can trace their origins all the way back to the founding days of Fódlan. Dimitri did not think himself prepared for the responsibility of knowing something about a stranger that they knew not about themselves.

The relative’s first name is Constantine. After a series of mail correspondences, he agrees to meet Dimitri at a café close to where Dimitri lives. Out of a combination of excitement and nervousness, Dimitri shows up almost twenty minutes early and waits at the entrance. When Constantine arrives, Dimitri immediately recognizes him – although it must be genetic fluke more than anything else, given how diluted the old noble bloodlines are, he has all the features that House Fraldarius was known for: dark hair, sharp eyes, and a long face.

Constantine almost passes him before Dimitri can call out, but he stops in his tracks abruptly and turns around, making direct eye contact with Dimitri.

“Are you Dimitri?” he asks. “You should have sat down first. Sorry for keeping you.”

“No, not at all,” Dimitri replies, offering his hand.

They exchange a brisk handshake before placing their orders at the main counter, then finding a table once their drinks are ready. Constantine does not initiate any small talk in the meanwhile – while Dimitri would normally have tried to strike up a conversation, he finds it difficult to string his words together. There is something about Constantine’s personal atmosphere that intimidates. While he maintains a youthful appearance, his mannerisms exude a sense of maturity; although Constantine looks like he could be around Dimitri’s age on looks alone, nobody would ever mistake him for being in his twenties after meeting his eyes. Dimitri gets a strong impression that Constantine would actively take displeasure in having to exchange pleasantries, so he decides it’d be safer to restrict discussion to their mutual business unless Constantine changes the topic.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Dimitri says after they sit down at a table opposite each other, “I truly appreciate it.”

“No need for thanks. I was also wondering what to do with all these things,” Constantine replies.

“Showing me those records isn’t going to cause any trouble with the rest of your family, will it?” Dimitri asks.

Constantine smiles wanly. He replies, “Most people would probably consider me a classic example of the black sheep of the family. Nowadays, they ignore what I do, and I ignore what they say behind my back.”

“Oh,” Dimitri says. His face flushes. He can’t remember the last time he was made to feel so much like an embarrassed schoolboy – it takes him a moment before he can reply properly. “I apologize for bringing it up.”

“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t bother me – and besides, you have to exercise responsibility when gathering sources, don’t you? I was in academia for a while, so I understand how it is,” Constantine says.

“Really? Do you mind if I ask what field?” Dimitri replies.

That wan smile resurfaces on Constantine’s face. Dimitri has been good at interpreting others’ body language since he was young, but he finds the smile Constantine wears a difficult expression to read. If it were the same smile on somebody else, he thinks he would find it easier – but when Constantine smiles, Dimitri has a premonition that there will always be something he is overlooking in what Constantine’s smile is meant to convey, like missing the forest when he looks at the trees.

After a pause, Constantine says, “Maybe later. Let’s concentrate on the matter at hand first. I’ve heard from Seteth that you’re researching Felix Hugo Fraldarius, but do you have anything specific in mind?”

“Well, the existence of personal records that haven’t been publicly released is huge in and of itself,” Dimitri says. “Even if there isn’t anything in them that hasn’t been said in other documents, it could still potentially sustain an entire paper all on its own.”

“So nothing specific,” Constantine replies. His tone is less cutting and more shrewd.

Dimitri hesitates for a moment, but there is something about the way that Constantine looks at him that gives him an intuition that if he is forthcoming, then Constantine will likely be forthcoming as well.

“To be honest, I haven’t even told my advisors this yet, because they’d all tell me that I should be practical,” Dimitri says. “But I’m curious… about what kind of relationship that he shared with the Savior King. I mean, it’s well-known that Felix Hugo Fraldarius served as the king’s most trusted advisor, and even tended to him on his deathbed. But records from their teenage years show that they shared a tense relationship. If anything… Felix Hugo Fraldarius seemed to despise Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.”

“That could just be normal teenage angst,” Constantine replies bluntly.

“I admit that it could be. But even if that’s what it was, I don’t feel that it becomes less worthy of studying,” Dimitri says, “and careful understanding. We all had some overly dramatic thoughts as teenagers, didn’t we?”

Yet again, Constantine smiles wanly. He leans back in his seat. Finally, he says, “Maybe there’s something fateful about this.”

“Pardon me?” Dimitri politely asks, unsure how to react.

“Nothing. Just thinking out loud,” Constantine answers. The wan smile turns into a wry one. “An older man should maintain a bit of a mystery about him, don’t you think?”

Dimitri laughs. It is an unusually pure show of emotion; there can be no doubt that his laughter is well-intentioned. But before Dimitri can gather himself to properly reply, Constantine says, “I was passed down three journals that Felix Hugo Fraldarius kept. It’s been years since I read them, but I believe the first entry was around his official ascension as duke, and the final entry was not long after the Savior King died. I’m willing to let you read them.”

“Really?” Dimitri replies, stuttering over the word. He clears his throat and attempts to gather himself – he knows he should feel excited, but more than anything, he is confused at his recent and unexpected upturns in fortune.

“You’ll have to give me some time to retrieve the journals from where I put them for safekeeping, but it shouldn’t take long. In exchange, I’d like you to transcribe the contents,” Constantine says. “I’ve been thinking that they should be copied for a while now. It feels like… they’re a bit too transient. It’s just asking for an accident, don’t you think?”

“Of course, I’m willing – it’d be an honor,” Dimitri says quickly, as if attempting to make up for his earlier ineloquence. “I agree it’s better safe than sorry when it comes to these things. Those journals are one-of-a-kind… even if you hadn’t agreed to let me read them, I would have encouraged you to have them copied.”

“Good, then it’s settled. I’ll let you know when everything is prepared on my end,” Constantine replies.

There is a finality to Constantine’s tone; Dimitri senses that any more expressions of gratitude will only annoy Constantine, so he decides to change the topic. “I’m curious as to how Felix Hugo Fraldarius’s journals made their way so far from the main house,” Dimitri says. “Normally, you would expect something so personal to be closely guarded by a person’s direct descendants.”

Dimitri can tell that Constantine forces himself to show an impassive face to that statement – while he manages to suppress a reaction, it shows in Constantine’s eyes that he found the comment jarring. Dimitri starts to think of something that might allow them to back out of the subject without causing embarrassment on either end, but before he can formulate a complete thought, Constantine replies, “I wasn’t sure at first if I should tell you about this, but I think I can trust you with this. To tell you the truth… I reread some of the last journal after Seteth got in touch with me. And the impression that I got afterwards is that Felix Hugo Fraldarius himself probably wouldn’t have minded if those records went public eventually… but he knew that his family would want to keep them out of the public eye. There’s something of an informal tradition in the family – never mind. I’ll tell you about it some other time, we’re getting off track.”

“Alright,” Dimitri says. He stops there because he’s unsure of what else to say except to indicate his intention to respect Constantine’s choice not to tell him more.

It has been a long, long time since Dimitri has been so thoroughly stymied at every turn in a conversation. Yet it doesn’t frustrate him. There is something he finds unusually charming about Constantine; he has the air of somebody who was once a mischievous and headstrong child before he grew into adulthood. 

“You’ll be able to draw your own conclusions soon enough,” Constantine replies. “I have to say, though… I’m not sure what to make of the fact that it’s a Blaiddyd who’ll be the first one outside of the family to read those journals.”

Dimitri can’t hide his reaction in time, and even though they’ve barely met, he’s certain that Constantine is not the type to politely overlook something like that. Indeed, Constantine frowns slightly and leans in over the table. “Something wrong with what I’ve said?” he asks.

“How should I put this?” Dimitri answers, after a pause. “It’s true that I can trace my lineage to the Blaiddyd family. But my surname is different, and I don’t recall saying anything that would give off the impression that I might be a distant relation…”

For a moment, Constantine looks as surprised as Dimitri feels. It is the first time during their conversation that Dimitri has felt that he can clearly understand what Constantine must be feeling. That aura of maturity that he had been effortlessly wearing slides off; he almost looks like a child caught with his proverbial hand in the cookie jar. Then he grins playfully – and he laughs.

“You’re right!” Constantine says. “I honestly haven’t the slightest why I thought you were a Blaiddyd. Guess it was just gut instinct. Good thing I wasn’t wrong, or else this could’ve been terribly embarrassing for me. You do look like a stereotypical Blaiddyd, so maybe that’s what it was.”

“I do?” Dimitri asks. Self-consciously, he tugs at a lock of hair off to the side of his face.

“Blond hair, blue eyes,” Constantine lists, “tall and reliable-looking. That’s how members of House Blaiddyd were often described, weren’t they?”

Dimitri gives a restrained smile, and intuits from the knowing way that Constantine nods in turn that Constantine has correctly understood that Dimitri can’t agree with that description personally, but doesn’t want to contradict Constantine. Instead, Dimitri says, “I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Sure,” Constantine replies. “Anyway – should we leave things at that? As I said, I’ll let you know when things are prepared for you.”

It’s only then that Dimitri realized Constantine has finished his drink – he hadn’t noticed Constantine taking sips at it during their conversation. In contrast, Dimitri’s drink is almost untouched. If the state of their drinks can be taken as an informal indicator of how excited Dimitri was about their conversation, he thinks he should be somewhat embarrassed at having shown a type of singlemindedness that is more befitting of a child than a grown adult.

Constantine, though, does not seem to take note of the matter and merely waits for Dimitri’s response. There is no judgment in his gaze. Dimitri thinks that may be one of the reasons he has found Constantine so difficult to read – if Constantine holds even subconscious prejudices, he does not seem to act upon them. In a sense, Dimitri supposes, that makes Constantine an admirable person at his core.

“I look forward to hearing from you,” Dimitri says.

About ten days later, Dimitri receives a letter from Constantine to make arrangements for their meeting. They agree that Dimitri can go to Constantine’s house and use his study to do the transcription. The journals are not to leave the study, and Dimitri is not to bring anything into the study. Constantine will not monitor the study, but he will remain close by at most times. Dimitri still hasn’t figured out what Constantine’s day job is, but it seems that taking several days off in a row just to oversee Dimitri is not an issue for him.

The terms are more than fair; if anything, they are extremely generous towards Dimitri. “Take as much time as you need,” Constantine says for the fourth time as he shows Dimitri to the study.

“You’re making me a bit nervous by repeating that over and over again,” Dimitri replies. “Did Felix Hugo Fraldarius have extremely poor handwriting, perhaps?”

Constantine laugh and says, “Well, you’ll see soon enough, won’t you?”

The study is well-lit and more organized than Dimitri was expecting. But the books within are over a broad range of topics, and there is an entire shelf of unlabeled files, so he still hasn’t even the least idea what Constantine might do for a living. There is a single desk, which is at least three times as long as the one Dimitri has in his paltry student’s office. Placed in the middle are the three journals, along with writing materials that Dimitri had requested for the transcription.

“Take your time,” Constantine says, once more, before leaving.

* * *

Perhaps I should have made mention of this earlier. But before this story continues, I should tell you this.

I was that dog.

I was that dog and with contentment, I passed my days by your side. When you pet me and when you fed me, this was my joy. When you raised your voice to scold me, this was my shame. I held within myself a great sense of pride in feeling that I could protect you. This pride formed my reason to live.

[ ](https://www.dropbox.com/s/24w8bmgx30ijxyr/dog.png?raw=1)

I knew what your sadness smelled like and so I knew that strange summer, you were not sad. I also knew what your happiness smelled like and so I knew that at the same time, you were not happy. From within you I could not smell anything at all, and I knew not what that meant. But you still pet me and fed me and walked with me – so I thought to wait.

Someday those things would return. This I believed.

During that time of nothingness, there was that black bird which circled around you occasionally. It was not that I hated that bird but that I had no choice except to bare my wariness towards it. For what purpose did it approach? I kept it away with you the only ways I knew how. First it was with my bark. And when that was not enough, then with my bite.

I sank my teeth into the flesh of that bird. I tasted it and then I understood. Suddenly I understood that I was not unlike that bird. You were saying words and some of them had the sound of scolding. For the first time, I did not heed your scolding words. The reason I dropped that bird from my mouth was because I had finally understood we were similar.

No. It was not mere similarity – I understood that we were the _same._

After that, you pet me but that did not give me happiness. For the first time, instead of joy, this made me feel shame. It was the only time that I ever felt that way.

Still I continued my days by your side contently. Yes, that contentment surely did continue. But I was a little quieter after.

Eventually, the scents of sadness and happiness returned to you. In fact, the smell of happiness was much stronger and the smell of sadness had faded. Why did that happen? I was but a dog – I couldn’t understand it. But I did feel gratitude for whatever or whoever made the nothingness itself into nothing.

My contentment continued on and continued on. Finally, after continuing for a great deal of time, I grew tired. The last I remember was that you stroked the fur on my back and – that did give me great happiness as I fell asleep. Then I returned.

* * *

Dimitri reads the journals.

He reads them carefully, one word at a time. Then he rereads those words and links them into a sentence. Then paragraphs. Then entries.

He reads them carefully because the journal is written in a very straightforward manner. It is closer to a record of events than it is to a diary. Yet it would be wrong to suggest that the journal is neither personal nor emotional. To comprehend the sentiments woven into the words requires the ability to read between the lines, or perhaps to interpret what is remains unwritten, or perhaps to believe that the writer was the kind of person who held certain beliefs and emotions within him as he wrote.

He reads them carefully, until he has entire passages of it memorized. Dimitri is average when it comes to rote memorization. This has never stopped him from performing well academically – especially in history courses, of course – because Dimitri understands that history is a narrative, not a list, and intuiting the flow of things both tangible and intangible has always come easily to him. But the exact words slip into Dimitri’s memory as if they belong there. It is natural. It feels similar to the sensation of returning home after a long time, except Dimitri isn’t the one is making his homecoming – the words are.

Carefully he reads the journals.

He reads them from beginning to end all at once. Even though the content is neither long nor difficult, this process takes him days. He spends several hours every day in Constantine’s study. In the confines of that room, time passes very strangely – it feels as if it is racing as he reads, yet every time he checks his watch, only a few minutes have gone by. Then, as if dreaming, he watches himself return home every evening and go through the motions of living, still thinking but unconscious. His mind remains with the journals as he eats dinner and as he sleeps while his body autonomously performs the necessary acts of sustenance.

But the effort and the time are worth it. After Dimitri reads the journals, he understands – or perhaps it is that he remembers.

Dimitri completes the transcription in a week. When he finishes the task, he and Constantine sit down together in the study with the copied journals on the work desk in between them. Without preamble, Dimitri says, “I recall you said that you thought Felix Hugo Fraldarius himself wouldn’t have minded if his journals were made public. I can’t agree with that.”

After a pause, Constantine replies, “I see. Is that your personal advice?”

“It does conflict with my professional stance on the matter, yes,” Dimitri says.

The answer is not an elegant side-step; Constantine smiles slightly but doesn’t call him out on it.

“Your gaze,” Constantine tells him, “looks steadier than it did when we first met. How long ago was that?”

Slowly, Dimitri replies, “It’s hard to say.”

Since his early teens, Dimitri has always been an anxious person. It is why he has become so attuned to other peoples’ body language – by attempting to sense their subconscious thoughts, Dimitri can feel more at ease making conversation and reduce the risk that anything catches him off guard and renders him ineloquent. If anything, the pervasive sense of anxiety that constantly fogs up in the back of his mind is precisely that which makes him a skilled conversationalist.

Yet as they speak, Dimitri feels the clear-mindedness that he has up until this point in his life only ever felt when he is willfully solitary. It is not a momentary clarity; if anything, he feels like everything is becoming less and less opaque around him as the moments pass.

“Well, I didn’t plan on publicizing it either way,” Constantine says. “I never felt like it was really my business to make a decision like that. It’s mostly a series of very fortunate coincidences that the journals even ended up in my hands anyway.”

Dimitri can’t agree with that either, but he holds his tongue. Instead, he says, “I think you should keep passing it down as you have, though. This may seem rude, but… I had a feeling that these journals may have brought you some comfort when you were growing up. And they may help the person you pass them onto as well.”

“You’re not wrong,” Constantine replies. Dimitri can tell that he still has more to say by the look on his face, though, so he stays quiet as Constantine gathers himself. Finally, he says, “Actually, I have an older brother. We work in the same field, but he is certainly the better-known between the two of us. I do love him as a family member… and I respect him more than practically anybody else I know. But… well, you know all about Felix Hugo Fraldarius’s life, don’t you?”

They are both younger brothers who have spent a lifetime being compared to their older brother; although he was himself an only child, Dimitri understands that their relationship must have been a complicated one at times. Dimitri nods and says, “I think he would have understood your feelings very well. In personality, though… personally, I’d say that you resemble Glenn Augustine Fraldarius more than his younger brother.”

“Most people who know we’re descendants of Fraldarius say the same thing. Certainly, my older brother’s personality is rougher and ruder than mine,” Constantine tells him. He laughs, and then he smiles.

Dimitri says, “May I ask again what you do?”

“I’m a medical researcher,” Constantine answers.

“I really respect that,” Dimitri replies. It is far from lip service; when he was born, one of his legs couldn’t move properly due to improper development. As a child, though, he’d received experimental treatment that had stimulated the natural growth of the nerves in his leg. It had happened when he was so young that Dimitri hardly has any memories of the years he’d spent bedridden, but he still remembers to give his thanks to those who had cured him every time he celebrates his birthday or the new year.

Constantine laughs again – more playfully this time. “It’s embarrassing when you say it so bluntly, but thanks for the thought. Anyway, about the matter of the journals… I’d like to know what your plans are, now that you’ve read them.”

“I don’t think I’ll write about him anymore. It doesn’t feel right, and… to be honest, I don’t want to be told that my thoughts on him are wrong,” Dimitri says. He smiles ruefully and adds, “Even by the professors I respect. It’s something I just wouldn’t be able to tolerate.”

He knows he has indirectly revealed something about what he’s learned after reading the journals, and Constantine seems to understand the nature of what he’s come to believe by the look on his face. But instead of press him on it, Constantine replies, “Alright, that makes sense.”

“I’m glad I had the opportunity to read them, though. It felt like there were many things within myself… that I was able to resolve by doing so,” Dimitri says. “I’m truly grateful that you let me do that.” 

“You’ve thanked me enough already. In return, send me a note when you’ve finished your defense. I’ll congratulate you then, alright?” Constantine tells him.

“Of course,” Dimitri says.

When he makes to leave, Constantine picks up the copies of Felix Hugo Fraldarius’s journal and abruptly shoves them into Dimitri’s arms. “I think you should have these,” Constantine says. “Let’s leave things at that. Don’t forget about keeping in touch.”

Dimitri accepts the journals without protest.


	9. ... that the shape of a loop was forming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did he learn when he read those journals?
> 
> Or perhaps the way that question should be phrased is: What did I learn… when I finally read those journals? 
> 
> I’m sure you would wonder. After all, those words were yours.

* * *

**Part null**  
Relativity and Reincarnation

* * *

Do you remember telling me this?

When you were a fawn, your legs shook as you walked for far longer than all the young animals in the forest. Though you were born such a weak thing, you survived – eventually, you steadied yourself and quietly grew.

It would be wrong to say that you were a lucky existence, but it is true that misfortune avoided you constantly. Many times you came within a single step of a trap or the jaws of a predator. You would narrowly avoid drawing too close to certain death every time danger set you in its sights.

When souls descend to the mortal plane, their cognitive abilities scale to the capacity of the form they take. Therefore, it was not deliberate thought that allowed you to evade bad luck. Your sense of purpose manifested instead as instinct.

You chose to take that form for a single reason: to close a loop of fate.

The winter before you would have reached full maturation, you crossed paths with a human man at the edge of the forest you spent your entire life roaming. His blond hair was matted with blood and dirt; his single blue eye hollowed with by desperation and rage. He swayed as you once did when you were newly born. Somehow, you understood that he was on the verge of starvation.

He kept his distance.

You stepped closer.

His hand went to his lance.

Still you stepped closer.

He picked his weapon up and pointed it at you.

[ ](https://www.dropbox.com/s/203rmblx7yxy69s/deer.png?raw=1)

You stopped. You did not move. You bore your neck. And willingly – you became his lifeblood.

Why would you do something like that?

I thought it was because it was either what you were born to do, or what you were destined to die for. I wonder if you believed the same thing or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe I understand now. Where the loop begins. Where the loop ends. And that it has not been the same for the both of us. 
> 
> … I’m ready to move on.


	10. Strange Loop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus his loop ended.

* * *

**Part VII | Part 0**  
The End of the Beginning

* * *

Shortly before the year turns to 1250, a boy is born in the village of Lleu. Just a month later, on the other side of the new year, a second boy is born. Lleu is a small settlement located on the Ithan Plains, close to the border between Blaiddyd and Fraldarius, and it is sustained almost exclusively by hunters who use the village as temporary accommodations; the number of residents fluctuates between one and three dozen as the seasons change. Because of how small the population is and the fact that their births coincided so neatly with the new year, that two children are born so close to each other is regarded as a blessing and a sign of prosperity to come.

Because of this, they are given auspicious names. The first born is named Dimitri, both after the Savior King, and because the name conveys a wish for a bountiful harvest. The second is named Felix, after the Shield’s Successor, and because the name is meant to bless its bearer with happiness. It has been almost a full decade since the Shield’s Successor passed away, and even longer since the Savior King’s death – the two of them are born just as it has become publicly acceptable for people to use these names for their children.

Felix’s parents are hunters, while Dimitri’s are among the few permanent residents, so they don’t quite grow up together. Whenever Felix is in Itha, he and Dimitri always spend most of their days together in close companionship, but Felix only spends the spring and summer in Itha while his parents work – and he returns with them to Fhirdiad during the colder months.

After Dimitri turns fifteen, his parents send him to a boarding school in Fhirdiad. Over the past fifty years, many such institutions have been built across Fódlan, and made free to children who otherwise wouldn’t be able to receive a proper education. Felix attends a different school, but the two of them make time to see each other often. Both of them have parents who encourage the two of them to choose for themselves what they want to do with their lives, so they live with a comfortable amount of freedom, without the pressure of heavy expectations resting on their shoulders.

Both of them graduate at the age of eighteen, and their paths diverge for the first time. Felix decides to attend the Royal School of Sorcery and continue his studies in reason. Dimitri returns home to help modernize his village’s ways. Using new techniques to enrich barren soil with nutrients, he is able to transform his village into one that can sustain itself on its own fields – and perhaps even expand into selling produce in the future – so that there will be something for the villagers to fall back upon during the years that fewer hunters visit them.

After that, he returns to Felix in Fhirdiad and tells him, “I want to stay with you for the rest of my life, Felix. Would that be alright with you?”

Felix smiles. He embraces Dimitri and rests his head on Dimitri’s shoulder – it is such a natural thing to share between them. Dimitri presses his lips to the crown of Felix’s head and wraps his arms around Felix’s waist. “Do I have to say it?” Felix replies.

[ ](https://www.dropbox.com/s/q0n59j3by27xgzm/BBep.png?raw=1)

“No,” Dimitri says. He laughs gently, and holds Felix just a little closer. “This answer is enough.”

Shortly before Dimitri turns twenty-two years old, he returns to Lleu to celebrate his birthday with his family, and Felix goes with him. After greeting all of the villagers, the two of them take a walk around the settlement; although it is the first time in over five years that Felix has been to Lleu, it is vastly unchanged from how he remembers it, with the exception of the new fields that Dimitri helped put down.

They stop at the gate leading into Lleu. Felix closes his eyes and breathes in slowly, and the winter air is pleasantly crisp in his throat and lungs. He says, “I still think of this place as home.”

Soon after Dimitri’s birthday, the new year will come, and then Felix’s birthday will arrive. To Felix, this feels almost like the natural order of things: certain people lead, and some events inevitably follow. It is but a matter of consequence.

“To be honest, when we were children… I used to worry that you might tire of coming back here every summer and stay in Fhirdiad instead,” Dimitri replies. He laughs quietly, and he sounds at ease.

“If only we had been born in a different time or place,” Felix says.

After all, Dimitri is a dreamer, both in a literal and a metaphorical sense. With regards to the former, Dimitri dreams almost every time that he sleeps, and he dreams with an unusual intensity of detail, using all of his senses. Felix has often listened to Dimitri tell him what he dreamed during the slow hours of the morning between waking and consciousness, and Felix cannot help but believe that they are a sign of the greatness that Dimitri carries within himself.

And with regards to the latter, Dimitri is an idealist through and through, full of lofty visions that are difficult to turn into a tangible reality, given that he is born to neither wealth nor authority. 

As they have known each other for their whole lives, Felix understands both of these aspects of Dimitri well. And because he loves Dimitri deeply, he does not wish to stifle those dreams.

“Neither time nor place matter much to me, Felix,” Dimitri tells him. He turns to face Felix and smiles. “You’re with me. What more can I ask for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an answer in mind. It was an answer difficult to convey with only words, though, so I said nothing. But to be honest — and because, right now, there is nothing left for me to hide from you — I never quite stopped thinking about how I should have answered.
> 
> Hence my loop began.


End file.
